After Zoey was born, it was a bit surreal how all the anticipation was gone in a split second. Isaac put her in my arms and it seemed like the whole world just stopped. We took turns holding her as all the staff filed out of the room. We were left to enjoy those precious first moments with our new babe. We spent the first few hours FaceTiming family and making official introductions. It was so fun getting to tell people that we had our first girl, and that we had decided on the name Zoey Jean Craft. In keeping with our tradition, her first name is a biblical name; Zoe means life in greek and is found many times in the new testament, and her middle name is a family name from her paternal great grandmothers, Barbara Jean and Doris Jean.

We tucked our sweet girl into her bassinet beside the bed, and finally fell asleep about 7am; a bed has never felt so good. We slept until about 11am, and awoke to find the streets outside covered in a fresh dusting of snow. For a baby born to a Texan and a Mississippian, a snow day on her first day of life was extra special. The streets outside were quiet as we soaked up our new babe in our cozy room. And then the boys came to visit…

Our good friend Rebecca brought my dad and the boys up to welcome the newest Craft. They were so captivated by her…but still working on that calm and gentle thing.

We were given the option to go home that day but figured we would stay the night to try and rest up before officially heading home to be a family of 5; our sweet new angel had other plans. Just as we were crawling into bed after staying up to watch the classic Federer v. Nadal match up at the Australian open, Zoey started fussing. She had been so chill all day, we were sure that she was going to be the laid back kid we have never had. But guys, she screamed and screamed and screamed All. Night. Long. Finally around 3am, I just told Isaac to go walk the hallway with her until someone took pity on him and offered to take her. It worked like a charm.

The next morning I got to take a nice hot shower before we headed home…I was thinking man, this shower looks awfully familiar (in case you missed her arrival story).

As we were preparing to leave, one of the midwives came in to get Zoey and told us to come with her. Turns out we were getting a “how to bathe a baby tutorial” complete with translation. Lucky for Judah, because by that point he was reallllllly dirty.

Do you see this two bowl system??? One for soapy water one for clean water. We are also supposed to have all the clothes laid out in a manner so that she is never naked and cold. This lady would likely be appalled by our take-them-in-the-shower-and-hold-an-ankle-so-you-don’t-drop-them technique…

And we head home to the troops.

The next few weeks were a blur of new baby and house guests. My dad arrived in Seoul 6 days after my due date. He had be hesitant about coming after my due date as the goal was to be here to help with the boys while we were in the hospital, but I assured him I would still be pregnant…call it mother’s intuition. He stayed for a little over two weeks. It was a great time filled with playing trains, ordering in, and granddad catching cat naps with Z.

Just before my dad left, Courtney, a family friend who is just out of college, arrived for a visit for a month to see Seoul and help out with a drama production at our school. I’m not quite sure what her plans were for wanting children before her visit but we may have scarred her for life.

While I did warn her that she would be walking into the chaos of a new baby, 3 under 3, and my dad being here, she still decided to come. Brave girl. I think she learned some valuable life lessons, like how (our’) kids don’t listen (ever), how they have a propensity for being disgusting, and that they get into EVERYTHING.

Bless her heart. She may have just been trying to be nice, but when she left she talked about wanting to see us this summer…maybe she figures she’ll be done with therapy by then.

Just to keep things interesting, on the same day that Courtney left, Isaac’s mom flew in. To be exact, Courtney flew out on the same plane Tina flew in on. Small world. We drove out to the airport to pick up “Nino” with little Z in tow. It was love at first sight.

Tina, Zoey, and I spent the next 2 weeks exploring Seoul and shopping while Isaac worked. We had the best time showing her around and were so grateful for the extra help.

The transition to three has been surprisingly easy, obviously by the grace of God. We have had only a couple moments where it has been very clear that our old way of doing things isn’t going to work anymore.

For instance the other day: We were coming in from the playground right at bath-time/bedtime. Isaac came in with Asher to change his diaper, I came in with Judah to put him in the bath, and try and keep the playground sand from infiltrating the entire house. Meanwhile, Zoey was at the door, fussing in the stroller.

Me- “Uhhh…Isaac can you get Z?

Isaac- “I am dealing with Asher, can you get her?”

Me- “Well I am trying to get Judah in the bath!”

*looks around waiting for the third parent to appear*

(If you, like Isaac, haven’t seen Ferris Bueller’s Day Off…shame on you)

Naturally, we seem to have found our new rhythm justtt in time for our summer break in the U.S.; isn’t that how life goes? We are so grateful for our families, of blood relation and friends that for some reason claim us. Life abroad comes with so many extra challenges, so to our people coming all the way to visit, the ones cheering us on from the states, and friends taking us in as family here, we could not do this without you.

 

Ok, ok, ok. Grab a snack…this is a long one. But I promise to not leave you hanging this time.

By the time we arrived it was about 10pm. They checked on baby and everything looked good. I was 4 centimeters dilated. I guess that’s one centimeter for EVERY. DAY. I. WAS. IN. LABOR.

Also terrible…each time they went to monitor the baby, it took them forever to find the heartbeat because baby was staying so high (hence the labor sagaaa). For the record, taking forever to find your baby’s heart beat combined with the nurse not being fluent in English is actually even more terrifying than it sounds. That’s life abroad for ya.

So to avoid scaring off any of my 5 readers, I will just give you the P.G. version of how the next 6 hours went. I am more than happy to share all the gory details with whoever wants to hear about it over a cup of coffee. You’re buying of course; I’ve earned it.

After we checked on baby, we got settled into our room. As luck would have it, Wednesday when we stayed there we were in a nice, small, private room, but Saturday the suite was available for us. It was a majorrrr upgrade. It almost makes the wait worth it. Oh wait.

Oh, hey there, super pregnant miserable Ali.

I paced for a while through the contractions and then my midwife asked if I would like to take a bath. My suite was conveniently connected to the room for their large birthing tub. I was thinking “oh yes, I love a good bath”. Now amended to say, “I love a good bath, WHEN NOT IN LABOR”. Really, nothing takes the fun out a nice, warm, relaxing bath with dim lights in a nice quiet room like your baby and uterus have a severe disagreement about if said baby will or will NOT be leaving the womb. Each time a contraction would come I would thrash about trying to find any comfort (IT WAS NOT FOUND). Come to think of it, it reminded me a bit of this scene.

After the bath I asked my midwife to check me to see if my prolonged agony had a least produced some progress. At this point it was about 1am. This brings up a fun little story. You all know Isaac, my precious saint of a husband, always kind and polite. Well, through a small misunderstanding…he got into a bit of a heated argument with our midwife right in the middle of a nice bunch of unrelenting contractions. Word to the wise: try to not hack of the person delivering your baby when in labor…

So you see what had happened was…when I got out of the tub, I asked my midwife to check me, and she just kinda stood there (granted it was 1am and she was probably in a daze). So Isaac, eager to get her to help me before another big contraction hit said something to the effect of “umm…check her??”. Keep in mind, she spoke English, but not super well, so Isaac skipped all the pleasantries like can you, would you mind, would it be possible, etc. and it was NOT received well.

She looked at him, took a moment, and then angrily responded “Isaac, do you have a problem with me? Have I done something to make you unhappy with me???” I could not believe what was happening. I was in so much pain and the contractions were coming hard and fast; I was not, I repeat NOT about to have my midwife quit on me. So I did what any logical, spiritual, deranged, exhausted, overdue, laboring person would do, I grabbed her hand and started praying for her, thanking God for her heart to serve and her skills to bring healthy babies into the world. Heartfelt prayer…justtt provoked by a slight moment of insanity/terror.

Either my prayer worked or it confused her enough to forget the argument and check me. Praise the Lord, I was 8 centimeters BUT the baby was still very high aka. still not coming (fun fact- between both pregnancies with the boys and 9 hours of stronggg Pitocin with Judah, I had never gotten past 2cm, so this was new territory). I paced the room some more, just trying to survive. I was doing everything I could through the contractions to help move baby into position. It was at this point I looked deep into Isaac’s eyes and begged for help; any semblance of composure was gone, like LONG gone. I knew I definitely didn’t want to have an epidural, but in my desperation I asked my midwife if there was any other option for pain relief. She ever-so-helpfully reminded me that I was at a NATURAL birthing center. Somebody hold me back.

Looking for any relief, I got in a HOT shower. Through each contraction (can you overuse that word in a birth story post?? If so, I’m sorry), I would try to help the baby move lower. I labored in the shower for over an hour but was growing restless. So I mustered what strength I had to get out and I asked my midwife to check me again. Her response: “that is really not necessary.” I fought the urge to reply in a manner more like—in a real low voice… “now you listen here..” and opted for PLEASE instead.

She checked me, and do you know what she said? DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHE SAID??

NO. CHANGE. After two hours of intense laboring I had made no progress.

…that was the moment we decided having two kids was plenty and that three was downright greedy, and we packed our bags and went home…

Ok, ok, ok. We didn’t do that, but only because it wasn’t an option…

It gets worse, y’all. So here we are, 3am. That’s 82 hours of labor, and my midwife says “Ali, I think it is time we consider a C-section, this doesn’t seem to be working”.

A C-SECTION. A C-SECTIONNNNNNNNN. I had no idea that was a thing, like 4 days of labor and 8 centimeters progressed and “whelp, thanks for trying, but…”. I was not about to quit now. I went into problem solving mode and ask if they wouldn’t let me go any longer, that maybe we could just do epidural to wait and see if I would progress. My midwife agreed this was a good option and told me that the anesthesiologist would arrive in about 30 minutes. She said that once I received the epidural that I could sleep for a few hours and then try again. I could have kissed her. A NAP? A NAP? Hallelujah, sweet baby Jesus.

So I sat on the edge of the bed, still writhing in pain, as they started an IV in preparation for the epidural. My midwife began to notice that I was starting to get the urge to push. Guys. Straight up. At this point I had my eyes on the prize…baby NAP. I was doing everything I could to not push. We had a plan, remember??? DRUGS, NAP, try again.

People began bustling in and out setting up supplies, while my midwife’s tune changed and she began encouraging me to try to push. They brought in a birthing stool and things started to get real. In my state, I just didn’t want to move, so it took my doula and midwife about 5 solid minutes of coaxing to get me to leave the side of the bed and begrudgingly sit on the stool. I just kept thinking “where the heck is that dang anesthesiologist??”. My midwife looked at me and told me that I had to decide: epidural or keep trying; she needed to know if she needed to call off the anesthesiologist. In the tiniest voice I had, I told her I would keep trying. It all happened so fast…gloves were coming out, in preparation for the birth our midwife ask Isaac if he wanted to catch the baby, and then my doctor showed up and we all know they don’t get doctors out of bed at 4am for nothing. Could it really be happening?? Surely not.

Ever since we showed up at the center Saturday night everyone kept saying things like, “Allison, you are having a baby!” or “Today is finally the day!”. My response varied between ya ya/whatever/sure I am/ liar liar pants on fire/ I’ll believe it when I see it, but there was my doctor, “Are you ready to have a baby?”.

With my new-found determination, I focused, breathed, and after just 15 minutes of pushing I heard Isaac shout through my delirium, “It’s a girl, baby. We have a baby girl”. At 4:17am on Sunday, January 29th, Zoey entered the world.

In my exhaustion, I had honestly forgotten that we were anxiously waiting to see what the gender of baby #3 would be, so it took a minute for his words to sink in. Isaac handed me our baby girl. From no progress/potential c-section to baby in arms in less than an hour. God is so good. I have never felt such sweet relief in my entire life.

²¹ When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world.

John 16:21

 

Grab some popcorn and let’s settle in for a nice story, orrrr a terrible story if you are still planning on having kids in the future.

Join me for a birth story told in gifs.

Let’s start at the due date, January 20th, which historically for me has meant a big fat nothing. So surprise surprise, my due date was met only with more “You’re STILL here??”‘s. Thanks again for those. 40 weeks + 4 days felt a little more special as that is the day that both the boys had born, but yet again, no baby, so at 40+5 I woke up feeling pretty determined to have a baby.

Please keep in mind as soon as we got the all clear that baby was fully baked, we had been walking, squatting, lunging, eating spicy food, eating pineapple, drinking red raspberry leaf tea, taking evening primrose oil, sitting on a birthing ball, etc. I had even gone so far as chugging castor oil TWICE.

I could go on explaining the gravity our efforts, but it would just get into terms you don’t know like “rebozo sifting” or the unmentionable act that will surelyyyyyy induce labor…

…we were fully prepared to try anything to avoid a 3rd c-section. At this point I had been having contractions, but they were still inconsistent. So Wednesday (5 days late), was just like every other day, I woke up went to work, but I knew exactly where I was going after…ZUMBA. I was met with gasps and stares as it didn’t seem that people realized just how serious I was about having a baby ASAP. So there I was at the back of the class, doing my heavily modified version, whilst still timing contractions.  I would put another gif here but oddly enough they don’t have one of a large mammal doing Zumba, sooo we carry on…

I went home and we ordered in the spiciest Thai curry I could stand for dinner. At this point my contractions were about 5 mins apart and consistent. I was cautiously beginning to think that it might be the real deal.

Weighing the fact that I was having strong and consistent contractions less than 4 minutes apart with the fact that could basically be in the Guiness Book of World Record’s for slowest labor progression, we debated for a long time whether we need to go to the birthing center. As they continued for a couple hours, finally around 10:30pm we finally packed our bags (shame on us for procrastinating, but then again so did baby) called over a neighbor (also last minute, thanks Mike!!!), and headed to the center!!

Spoiler alert, baby Zoey was not born that night, or the next, or the next…do you get the picture??? So I’m going to leave you hanging right here for now, and I don’t even feel bad about it…at least you aren’t in labor.

Stay tuned.