That One Time I Had Another Baby

It's been over a month now since Logan was born, so I should probably quickly write down what I recall from her birth.  Just so I don't forget too much and so I can please the sadistic people who like to read these kind of stories.  I kid, I kid.

Anyways, my pregnancy with Logan was way different than it was with Sheriff (To read all about my first pregnancy/delivery, go HERE).  I craved crap.  Like chips and candy.  I was also way more laid back.  I knew what birth was all about and wasn't freaking out the entire pregnancy about delivering the baby.  And I looked different.  This should have lead me to believe I was having a boy, but when I first found out I was pregnant, both Jon and I instantly thought it would be another girl.  And then we didn't find out what we were having because the ultrasound technician couldn't tell.  In retrospect, I wish I would have kept a tally of how many people told me I was going to have a boy based on the way that I was carrying Logan.  I find living in Calgary that women of different ethnicities are more excited to speak with you about your pregnancy than your typical "white" woman, and they often have little "signs" they look for that obviously indicate what you're having.  I had Vietnamese women, Pilipino women, Latino women, Chinese women, all sorts of women randomly tell me I was having a boy.  But still, I couldn't quite believe them.  

My due date was October 10th.  As the date drew closer I found myself not as anxious as I was the first time.  With Sheriff, I just wanted things to end.  It made me furious each time I found out a girl with the same due date as me had their baby already.  This time around, I knew my days with just Sheriff were numbered and I did my best to enjoy them.  I would have been perfectly fine to go overdue a couple days.

When the due date finally rolled around there was still nothing.  So I went on a walk in the coulees in Lethbridge, enjoyed a nice Thanksgiving dinner, did some shopping, watched some Walking Dead, and then started to feel like labour might decide to happen in the near future.  It was like 10PM at this point, so I decided to have a nice long, hot shower and get ready for bed.  When I hopped into bed at 11PM, that's when contractions started to happen consistently.  I figured I could still try and get some sleep, so I laid in bed patiently waiting to doze off, but it never happened.  At 1AM I finally decided to tell Jon what was happening.  Thankfully, my husband is a much more antsy person than myself and he made me get the ball rolling to leave for the hospital.  I really hate the idea of showing up at the hospital and then being sent home, so I dragged my feet a little and slowly packed and got ready.  We finally got to the Raymond Hospital at around 1:45AM.

SIDEBAR - I decided to have Logan in Raymond as well because I had such a great experience having Sheriff there.  When I first started to see my doctor for this pregnancy at the beginning, he was quick to tell me that they were going to quit delivering babies in Raymond in the near future and that I may need to find another hospital/doctor.  As I got further along it was determined that I could have my baby in Raymond, but that they were going to shut things down soon.  I guess the Raymond Hospital doesn't deliver that many babies since there is no anesthesiologist there to administer epidurals.  Girls choose to go into Lethbridge to get the job done instead.  At my 39 week appointment I was told that I would be the last to deliver in Raymond, as neither of the two doctors who do deliveries had any more patients expecting.  

When we got to the hospital, the door was locked since it was after hours, so we had to buzz in.  The nurse at the desk asked us what we were there for, so I simply answered, "I'm here to have a baby."  Haha, you should have seen their faces as we came in and I casually walked up to the desk joking around with Jon.  The contractions were definitely getting stronger by this point, but it wasn't something I couldn't handle.  This dude nurse even went as far as to ask, "Are you sure you're in labour?"  I assured him I was as this was my second kid.

It was like Logan knew I was finally in the hospital, because as we were standing at the desk getting checked in, things started to amp up.  I regretted being so chipper on my way in because it made the nurses act really slow.  When I finally got to the delivery room and changed into my gown, things got cranked up another notch again.  The head nurse checked how things were progressing and then called my doctor to come in.  I remember being a little annoyed because she didn't give me my "number," but looking back I should have known I was at a 10 because she told me she could feel Logan's head already.

The contractions at this point were outrageous.  With Sheriff, I was so relaxed and peaceful and had my wonderful little birth mantra of "I can do anything for one minute," and things just never felt overwhelming at all.  This time around all of that went out the window.  I remember after one contraction that felt like it went on for 2 years thinking in a panic, "I can't do this for five hours," which is how long my labour with Sheriff was.  Fortunately I didn't have to.  With Sheriff I never, ever felt the urge to push.  By the next contraction that's all I could think about.  I mentioned this to the nurses, to which the dude nurse said something to the effect of, "Hold on, let's not be hasty."  (Haha, as I'm remembering all of this and writing it down I'm surprised I never once felt the urge to punch the dude nurse in the face)

By this point Dr. Steed arrived and so did another nurse, my friend Jessica's mom, to help out.  I'm so glad the head nurse called Susie, as the dude nurse and other girl really had no idea what to do.  In fact, the other girl nurse wrote "Amanda Ruiz" on my hospital bracelet.  Bless her heart.  I think Dr. Steed thought this delivery would be like my last because he was really nonchalant and took his time to get his gloves and gown.  After he broke my water he started to ask me a question, but I so rudely interrupted him with a contraction that I finally had the green light on to push.  And just like that, after two contractions accompanied with pushing, Logan was born.  And thank goodness, because like I said, those contractions felt like I was being hit by a train.  Haha, I remember looking up after the first contraction and Dr. Steed didn't even have his gown on all the way.  It was pulled up to his elbows and that's it.  Logan surprised him.

It was so neat to see little Logan.  She came out with her legs crossed, so there was this magical moment of anticipation where everyone was looking anxiously to see what she was.  Dr. Steed was holding her to face me, so when her legs finally uncrossed I was one of the first to know I had just had another girl.  And I was so excited!  A big smile tore across my face.  Which is funny when I think back to how upset I was when I found out Sheriff was a girl, haha.  Logan let out a big healthy cry shortly after coming out and everyone in the room was in awe over how much hair she had.

Logan had all the attention in the room for a couple minutes before I stole it all back.  I remembered how Dr. Steed had been in the middle of asking me a question, so I apologized and asked him to finish.  He said his wife was wondering if she could come in and take pictures of "the last baby to be delivered in Raymond."  I was so excited and obviously said yes.  I've been a closet creeper of her blog and photography for awhile and knew the caliber of her work.  You can see the beautiful pictures she took HERE.

As I mentioned, I quickly stole all the attention when it became clear how much blood I was losing.  I remember looking up at the monitor and being surprised to see my blood pressure was hoovering around 70/50.  At that point it was determined that I needed a transfusion, so now I can say I have someone else's blood in my body.  I guess that's pretty cool.  After the transfusion was complete the nurses tried to help me up to go take a shower.  Nope.  My blood pressure was still so low that even sitting up on the bed made me nauseous and start to shake and feel like I was going to pass out.  So they gave me quick little sponge bath and a catheter and took me to my room on a stretcher.  Can I just say how fantastic a catheter is?  I'm asking for one for Christmas.  Think of how much Netflix I could lay around and watch without any bathroom breaks!

I ended up staying in the hospital for two and a half days and got two more blood transfusions.  Can I also just say how awesome blood transfusions are?  I'm asking for some more for Christmas.  I now totally understand why professional athletes would get all tangled up in blood doping scandals.  It makes you feel invincible!  So although my delivery with Logan was way rougher than Sheriff's delivery, I felt way more awesome sooner because of the wonderful blood gifts.

So there you have it folks.  This has been a story about having another baby.  To conclude I'd like to just reaffirm something a friend told me before I had ever had any kids.  After a couple quick labours of her own, she told me that fast labours SUCK.  I didn't believe her.  It didn't make sense to me that it would suck to have an inevitable moment of pain be over quickly.  I can now confirm that she is right.  Although I was really only in labour with Logan for 2.5 hours, the last half hour was so brutal I felt like I was being trampled by a herd of cattle.  The quick labour with Logan made my moderately longer labour, only five hours, with Sheriff seem like a day at the spa.  So ladies, pray for a longer labour.

The end!

The speech

I asked my Dad last night if I was a essentially giving a 100 years late eulogy, as I wasn’t given a ton of direction with this.  He’s simply asked me to share things about Hannah’s life that perhaps go unnoticed. 

I’ll admit it’s rather intimidating to be asked to speak about someone I’ve never met.  My dad told me this morning that Sister Mendenhall remembers Grandma Hannah, and perhaps some of you may also.  Although I’ve never met her, I’ve invested a great deal of time in becoming well acquainted with her.

Hannah was not a stranger in our home growing up.  My youngest sister shares her name (which is actually a family name on my Mom’s side as well).  A picture of Hannah hanging her wash with her experience and revelation documented beneath it was hung on our wall.  In fact, I remember sharing that quote while holding up that picture as a primary talk I gave while growing up.  Also, Hannah’s autobiography was always floating around the house.  I finally sat down and read it in Junior High and afterwards claimed it as my own, keeping it with my scriptures and talking it to church with me every Sunday.  Somewhere between then and university, I lost that copy - so last year I took the time to compile my own copy of her history and to complement it with other related histories, like that of John Lye, Sarah, and Jesse and Raymond Knight.  So, although I’ve never met her, I have definitely come to love her and am deeply humbled to be asked to speak about her magnificent life.

Early on in her history, Hannah notes that she caught what she called “black canker” at the age of 2.  From what I can tell, this is what diphtheria was called back then, referring to the hallmark sign ulcerous coating in the back of the mouth and throat.  The diphtheria toxin can also affect the heart, causing abnormal heart rhythms and even heart failure.  It can also affect the nerves and lead to paralysis in parts of the body.  So when Hannah spoke of being an unhealthy child, she very likely was suffering from the side effects of her bout with diphtheria.

During her growing up years, it was clear that she had to learn to work as her family suffered from a poverty that often left them hungry.  I can think of two stories off the top of my head where Hannah’s testimony was strengthened by the charity of others who had brought her and her family food in a time of desperate need.  And although her family may have struggled, she grew up into a young woman with an incredibly powerful testimony that kept her safe and helped her direct her course through her young adult years.

At age 18, Hannah moved to Salt Lake City to work at the Walker House Hotel.  She often describes herself as being “green” and naive upon moving to the city from her home town of Lehi.  This was something I definitely related to when I turned 18 and moved to Edmonton for school from small-town Raymond.  The working environment of the Hotel definitely proved to be an eyeopening experience for Hannah as she observed fluid morals, cruel and unrighteous attempts at harming her or other young girls, and the ease at which so many denied or condemned the gospel.  Yet Hannah was steadfast, held firm to her testimony, and completed her work at the hotel unharmed and all the wiser.

The next way Hannah displayed her firm testimony through story in her autobiography was her acceptance and faith in plural marriage.  I’ll admit I know very little about the necessity and implementation of plural marriage in that segment of church history, but Hannah makes it very clear in her words that this was a law that was upheld by the truly faithful and righteous.  She states “I had always said I would not marry a man who would not live plural marriage, but I wanted to be the first wife.”  The year before she married John Lye, Hannah also had many spiritual experiences that prepared her for entering into a plural marriage.

January 1878 was when Hannah married John Lye.  Hannah was only 22 years old.  John was 29 and Sarah was 32.  John and Sarah already had had 5 children, 4 of which were living, the oldest being 6 and the youngest 5 months old.  9 months later, Hannah gave birth to her first child, Frank.

For roughly 10 years, John Lye, Sarah, and Hannah lived without any trouble from the state due to their plural marriage.  At this point, Hannah was 32 years old, and had had 5 children, 4 of which were living.  So that John Lye could live “legally” and not be kept in prison, Hannah took her children and went on what she called “the underground.”  During the next 14 years of her life, all while still having babies, Hannah took her mother’s name and moved a total of 36 times.  In fact, when grandpa, or to me, great-grandpa George was born, Hannah was forced to move again when he was only nine days old.

In 1898, John Lye accepted a call to move to southern Alberta.  He took Sarah and their family with him and they settled in Magrath in 1899.  Hannah followed two years later on her own and settled in Raymond.  Worth noting is that only three men can be proved to have brought more than one wife to Canada.  Although John Lye and Hannah Simmons are included on this list, it should be clear that John Lye brought Sarah up, and that Hannah followed later on her own.  The majority of men who had been practicing it simply took one wife with them and left the other(s) in Utah, visiting them at the time of the LDS General Conference in April and October.  Others never returned to see the wives they left behind.  I’m so grateful Hannah had the courage to venture up here.  I love this land so very much and our history could be so different if she hadn’t.  

When Hannah moved up, her oldest son was 23 and youngest daughter was 6.  I’ve always been proud to say that my ancestors helped settle Raymond.  My dad would blame it on what he calls “Raymonditis” or an unhealthy love and obsession for a self-obsessed small town.  I disagree.  Although Raymond brags about many things, it often forgets one of the neatest things about itself: that it was settled by the son of a man who was close personal friends to Joseph Smith.  Jesse Knight, the founder of Raymond, was the son of Newel Knight, a close friend of Joseph Smith.  After the Smiths, the Knight family may be the “second family of the Restoration” as they believed and accepted Joseph’s claims before Oliver Cowdery, Martin Harris, or David Whitmer knew him.  They are also what I would call “lesser known” because they never wavered in their faith or loyalty to the church like several other key players in the Restoration.  Comparable maybe to Alma’s son Shiblon, the faithful middle son who never wavered and who is only addressed in a small chapter in the Book of Mormon.  Newel was baptized early on, was called as one of the first branch presidents of the church, and served on several high councils.  I could definitely go on, as I find this aspect of town history quite fascinating, but that’s for a different speech or eulogy.

It is this part of her life that I wish more was documented, however she only briefly summarizes her life from when she settled in Raymond to the end.  I’ve searched two of Raymond’s history books and felt so ripped off that not more about my great-great-grandma is written.  Don’t they know how amazing she was?  Perhaps more isn’t said because Hannah and her family only lived in Raymond for roughly 10-11 years.  It was around 1912 that they moved to Hill Spring.

Although little was said, one thing is certain - Hannah worked as a midwife for the town, delivering hundreds of babies into the world.  A testament to Hannah’s skills and intelligence in the delivering of babies is the fact that Aunt Wanda lived.  George and Ellen’s very first child, Wanda, was born very premature, weighing in at only 3 lbs.  This weight is consistent with being only 30 weeks gestation, or 10 weeks premature.  Most babies born before 32 weeks need to have highly specialized treatment and breathing assistance.  Grandma Hannah was able to keep Wanda alive by closely watching her and keeping her warm in the oven of the coal burning stove.

I realize this is a poor place to end things, but I believe from this point in her history, many of you may have had stories told to you by your parents and are even more familiar than myself, as I’ve said Hannah documented little from this point on.  I hope I was able to maybe point out something interesting you hadn’t realized before or at least not bore you completely.  I have a very strong testimony in the power of not only doing family history work, but in the power of taking the time to KNOW our family history and the history of members of our family.  If you think about it, when a newly married couple stands up from the altar in the temple and is asked to look at the reflections in the mirrors, which are symbolic of their posterity and ancestry, there would be no reflections to the future without the mirror behind them reminding them of the past.  Although they may not be here with us today, our ancestors play a key role in our lives and in the lives of our posterity.  

I leave you with a quote from President Joseph F. Smith that I inscribed in my parents copy of Hannah’s autobiography I printed.

“I believe we move and have our being in the presence of heavenly beings and of heavenly messengers.  We are not separate from them… we are closely related to our kindred, to our ancestors… who have preceded us into the spirit world.  We can not forget them; we do not cease to love them; we always hold them in our hearts, in memory, and thus we are associated and united to them by ties that we can not break… If this is the case with us in our finite condition, surrounded by our mortal weaknesses, … how much more certain it is… to believe that those who have been faithful, who have gone beyond… can see us better than we can see them; that they know us better than we know them… we live in their presence, they see us, they are solicitous for our welfare, they love us now more than ever.  For now they see the dangers that beset us; … their love for us and their desire for our well being must be greater than that which we feel for ourselves.”

I have a testimony…

That One Time I Had A Baby

To be honest, I don't even know where to start in telling this tale.  Perhaps the best place to start is in addressing the role depression had in my pregnancy and delivery.  Yeah, that sounds like a good place to start.

As I've mentioned before on my blog, I have depression, but by no means does that mean I am "depressed."  The biggest way that my depression manifests itself is through crippling anxiety and downright irrational fear to situations that wouldn't really phase the average human being.  A huge fear and anxiety of mine is being "exposed"… Which would obviously make delivering a baby quite terrifying.

So back track to my first prenatal appointment with the obstetrician I was referred to in Calgary.  She was nice.  The appointment went well.  That is until she wrapped things up by saying to make my next appointment for a complete physical.  Which is something I've never had, let alone have any desire to have.  Fortunately, as Jon and I were walking out of the clinic the reception staff were all on lunch break and they just told me to call and make the appointment.  And since I'm super sneaky, I ripped up the piece of paper with their contact information and threw it away when Jon was at work.  Problem solved.  That is until Jon started asking when my next appointment was.  This was the answer I had formulated:

"I've decided I want to have an unassisted home birth.  I've read up on it.  It's not a big deal."

I really had read up on it.  And it seriously didn't seem like such a big deal.  Having a room full of strangers staring at my privates - now THAT'S A BIG DEAL.  A big freaking scary, terrifying deal.  And I would have sooner had a baby in a bathtub by myself than subject myself to such a mortifying experience.

You can probably guess how thrilled Jon was by this answer.  He wasn't.  We had some pretty excellent arguments that made it darn clear that neither of us were going to budge.  Jon wanted his baby born in a hospital and he wanted his wife to start seeing the obstetrician again.  Kristen wanted her baby born in a place where she would feel comfortable and there was no way she was going back to that crazy lady who wanted to do a complete physical.  It was a pretty intense standstill. 

Eventually a compromise was reached.  We agreed to have the baby at the hospital in the small town I grew up in.  This way the baby would be born in a hospital and I would be in a place where I was comfortable.  Win-win.  

After coming to this agreement, the remainder of the pregnancy went blissfully by (well, with the exception of me being hysterically sad that I was having a girl… Dang depression, haha).  I met with my doctor a small handful of times.  His laid-back personality reaffirmed that we had made the right choice in coming to Raymond.  I felt comfortable and Jon felt confident.

Before I knew it, I was on Maternity Leave from work and vacationing in Raymond waiting for the imminent arrival of Baby Ruiz.  I met with the doctor and after measuring my HUGE belly he told me that, "This is going to be a big baby."  He then suggested a good ol' sweep and stretch of the membranes, to which I gracefully declined.  When my mom asked how the appointment went, I told her all of this, to which she then exclaimed I was crazy for not wanting my membranes stripped after being told I was having a big baby.  So I beat myself up all weekend, since that appointment took place Friday afternoon, and on Monday morning I went to the clinic and begged to get in to my doctor ASAP.  Fortunately, there was an opening that afternoon (small town perks…).

Throughout my pregnancy I found myself intrigued by the book "Childbirth Without Fear" by Grantly Dick-Read.  Essentially, his entire book and life's work was based on the "Fear - Tension - Pain" relationship in childbirth and how if you're able to decrease your fear you'll subsequently decrease the amount of pain.  It made sense to me.  So by the end of my pregnancy I believe it's safe to say I really had no fear.  I was ready for whatever.

Although I was warned having the membranes stripped would be uncomfortable, it wasn't at all.  Afterwards, all the doctor said was, "That's bizarre.  Are you sure you haven't had any contractions yet?"  After sincerely reaffirming that I didn't think I had, the doctor said, "Well you're at about a 3 or 4 right now."  Nice.

When I told my mom this news, she got pretty bitter.  Apparently when she was pregnant with me it took her a good 20 hours of labour to make it to 4 cm.  I got there without breaking a sweat or even being aware that it was happening.

The next few days were spent running errands, going to Waterton to climb Bear's Hump, and shooting gophers.  I must admit, a pregnant belly makes for an excellent gun prop.

By Wednesday I was getting uncomfortable.  And by Thursday I was getting cranky.  But I did my very best to hide this by cleaning and going into Lethbridge with my Mom.  While running errands with her I started to notice that my stomach felt a little tight every so often.  Oh, these must be contractions.  I decided to just keep it to myself.  At around 5:00 pm-ish the contractions became regular and consistent, pretty well 5 minutes apart.  Oh, this must be labour.  Again, decided to keep things to myself.  Eventually I told Jon what was going on and he insisted we leave for the hospital right then.  I convinced him that going on a long walk would actually be a better idea.  And so go on a walk we did.  When we got back from the walk the contractions were more like 2-3 minutes apart and there was no real break between them.  Finally we let my parents know what was going on and got to the hospital around 9:00 pm.

I felt so peaceful on our drive up.  And that peaceful feeling stayed with me throughout the evening.  The nurses checking me in commented on how calm I seemed and then showed me the way to the delivery room.  The RN who checked things out was also pretty surprised with how mellow I was because things were far enough along that she needed to call the doctor in.  Jon and I liked the doctor even more when he arrived shortly after wearing soccer cleats and gym shorts.  After he got changed he confirmed what the RN had thought.  I was nearly 10 cm and my water was just "bulging."  I gave him the go ahead to just break it (weirdest feeling EVER…).

The next couple hours or so I spent bouncing through contractions waiting until I was given the go ahead to start pushing.  I had a funny way of coping through the contractions - I would "sing."  When things got tight I would simply pick a note and hold it through until the contraction ended.  I found it kept my body really relaxed and took my mind off the discomfort.

Finally the time came to push.  In retrospect, it probably really wasn't time yet because I ended up pushing for two and a half hours.  Talk about a work out.  I don't really remember ever reaching a point where I thought I had made a horrible mistake having the baby in Raymond.  I knew when I made my decision that I would not be able to have an epidural, because Raymond does not have an anesthesiologist.  My option for pain management was really just laughing gas and I never felt like I needed it either.

Although the pushing lasted for quite awhile, I have fond memories of it.  After things were all said and done, the RN told my mom that I was the funnest delivery she had helped with.  There were a couple times I made everyone in the room laugh.  At one point after a contraction and pushing ended I looked up at Jon and very sincerely asked him, "How are you doing?"  The doctor and nurses all laughed at me, one nurse told me not to worry about him.  I just remembered hearing stories about how Jon's dad would nearly pass out with the birth of each of his children, so I felt like I needed to check on Jon.  At another point in the delivery, where Sheriff was more out than in, I reached down and grabbed all my flappy belly skin, stretched it out, and laughed at it.  Again, more laughing at me followed.  Lastly, I had a nurse tell me that I didn't need to say "Please" and "Thank you."  But when your mother is the "water girl," and also the one who taught you your manners, it only seems right to say "Please" and "Thank you!"

Things did eventually get really uncomfortable at the end.  That is because my baby was flipping gigantic and I did some mighty fine tearing.  I believe they called them third degree tears.  I spent what seemed like the next hour still laying on the bed, waiting for Sheriff to be looked after and then for myself to be stitched up.  Although it was a physically uncomfortable, and not very dignified, experience, I vividly remember thinking while being stitched up that I could totally do that again.  Just not a week later or anything.

So from hospital check-in to birth it was only five and a half hours.  Not bad for a first time having a baby.  After all was stitched and done, I had a shower and then got a wheel chair to take me to my room.  This is where the stupidest, most painful thing ever happened.  You see, I'm pretty tall and since it was nearly 4 AM at this point, I was tired and didn't properly gage how low the seat of the wheel chair was.  I thought I lowered myself down a safe distance to then softly drop down the rest of the way.  False.  I dropped more like half a foot down on a freshly delivered and stitched bottom.  It wasn't a pleasant feeling but I still managed to laugh at myself.

And there you have it.  My very own birth story.  I still can't believe that I actually had a baby.  I love her stinking guts.

Sheriff July Ruiz

Born June 27, 2014 at 2:36 AM

Weighed 9 lbs 7 oz

Measured 20.5" long

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Aliquam euismod arcu diam, non molestie odio tristique nec. Pellentesque nec mollis nibh. Sed lectus massa, consectetur sed interdum ut, sagittis eget mauris. Nullam vulputate dui laoreet, cursus odio a, mollis odio. Nunc auctor ultricies felis id varius. Donec vitae nisi ut dui fermentum bibendum. Praesent ipsum massa, luctus sed dolor nec, sagittis eleifend tellus. Vestibulum venenatis sollicitudin lectus, a interdum ligula pretium in. Phasellus et erat mi. Proin in justo suscipit, laoreet lorem vitae, facilisis odio. Suspendisse vitae nisi nec ante bibendum gravida. Aliquam vitae fringilla nulla. Fusce at porttitor diam, mollis elementum sapien.