Fulton John Gutridge was born Sunday, November 17 at 9:45pm. 7lb, 13 oz, 21 inches long. Light brown hair.
I've written all my other birth stories on this blog, feel free to read them: Catherine (our first baby who I miscarried), Elizabeth, Mary, Max, and Rose. I've had many different types of births: epidural, natural, c section. All of them have pros and cons, except c sections, which in my opinion are the WORST and are WAY harder than having a natural birth because the recovery is so hard. (But really, I am thankful for c-sections, because without mine Max might not be here)
With Fulton, I added a new type of birth to my repertoire: A HOMEBIRTH.
Wait, WHAT?
Yes, it's true. I've crossed the line from a Catholic hippie (aka, hippie minus all the "free love" crap) who dabbles in essential oils and homeopathic remedies to a CRAZY PERSON. Who has home births?
via MEME
I would like to start out by saying I have absolutely no interest in trying to convince anyone to have home births. Trent and I thought a lot about it and did a lot of research. We have our past hospital experiences that weighed in on this decision. We decided a home birth would be a great option for us, and that for low risk pregnancies, it is very safe. But I realize this subject is something in which most people have an opinion cemented in their minds, and nothing will change that. That's cool! I'm fine with it if you would never be comfortable having a home birth. As the cliche millennial saying goes, YOU DO YOU. This is not something I am passionate about in the same way as, say, the fact that the Catholic Church is the church that Jesus Christ founded and has never contradicted itself in the areas of faith or moral teachings in over 2,000 years and everyone should become Catholic because it is the BEST.
Sorry, got off on a tangent there. But bottom line: I'M NOT TRYING TO CONVINCE YOU THAT HAVING A HOME BIRTH IS SAFE/NOT SAFE/OK/NOT OKAY/AWESOME/CRAZY/INSERT ADJECTIVE HERE. You have your opinion, we have ours. I'm sure you have lots of research to back yours up. So do we. It's fine.
I was very secretive about the fact that we were going to have a home birth. The only reason for this was because I simply did not want all the negative comments entering into my brain. I needed to be thinking positively and I needed my head to be in a good space. I also had no interest in trying to convince people that home birth is okay, and I didn't feel like putting forth the energy to explain to people our reasonings for having a home birth.
Plus, I get enough wide eyed "are you crazy" reactions when strangers simply see my pregnant belly and our four children under age 7. I'll just deal with that. We don't need to add home birth craziness to that mix. It might make people faint.
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| Actually...we don't have cable... |
Basically, I'm TIRED. I need to save my energy to keep all these children alive. If I'm going to have a debate, it's going to be about religion.
Okay. Now that we got that out of the way. MOVING ON.
With Rose's birth, I had a wonderful thing called PRODROMAL LABOR. In basic terms, prodromal labor is this:
Body starts acting like it's going into labor.
You have serious, painful contractions on a consistent basis for hours. (Most of the time, it happens in the middle of the night, so you aren't sleeping)
You start thinking, THIS IS IT.
You start to debate with husband: should he go into work? Should we call the parents to pick up the kids?
All the sudden, everything stops.
Repeat this cycle for days. Or weeks.
Well, joy of joys, it happened AGAIN! Thankfully, this time, it only last a few days. But still. ANNOYING.
Saturday morning, contractions had been happening for hours. Trent almost didn't go into work. We called our parents to come pick up the kids. THIS IS HAPPENING.
Then, in my emotional turmoil, I told Trent to just go into work anyway because it's probably not real.
Annnnnnd it wasn't.
By noon I felt totally normal and stupid. At this point, I was going to be the boy who cried wolf. When things actually DID start to happen, no one would believe me.
The problem with prodromal labor is that when labor does actually start to happen, you don't believe it. Because I'VE BEEN BURNED BEFORE, it's not going to happen again!!!
Sunday in the wee hours of the morning (sorry, I've been watching too much Great British Baking Show), contractions started again. Nothing serious, but they were regular. HERE WE GO AGAIN, I thought. We decided to ask the parents to keep the kids for the day, JUST IN CASE. Trent and I went to church that morning. I was exhausted from not getting sleep from all these dang fake contractions. I had no makeup on. My hair looked like an amazon woman. I was also having contractions during Mass (AND, ironically enough, Father's homily was all about suffering! I really enjoyed that!). After Mass, people hesitantly came up to me and asked, "Are you doing okay...?"
We only live a few blocks from church so we walked. Because, dang it, we need to GET THIS LABOR STARTED ALREADY! By noon, I was thinking that actually, labor might really be happening this time. Maybe I'll give it one more go.
And, by golly, it did. And it seemed really hard and long compared to my last birth. I felt kind of wimpy. With Rose's labor, everything went so fast. But this time it didn't. My mom and my friend Kim came over and helped me through. They listened patiently to me whine and complain.
Eventually, around 8pm, things started to get intense. I cried and said I couldn't do it anymore (I KNOW, I KNOW, that's always when they say the baby is coming. But I didn't believe it). The midwife and her assistant came and I got in the tub. I was in transition for about an hour.
It seemed like the transition period/pushing lasted FOREVER. I know, really, that an hour of transition and two or three pushes is nothing compared to what some women go through. But when he was coming out, apparently his hand was in front of his face, and that was what was holding everything up. The midwife pulled his arm out, and then out he came!
(BY THE WAY: This exact same thing happened with Mary. It must be in the genes)
I'm going to be honest here. When they put him on my chest, the only thing I felt was intense relief that everything was over. I was so tired, I didn't even really realize I had a baby on me.
The ironic thing was when we got a 36 week ultrasound, it took a half hour to get any pictures of his face because his hands were in front of his face the whole time. And even now, this is his favorite way to be:
My midwife told me that if that hand wouldn't have been there, my labor/birth would have gone MUCH faster.
But Fulton was fine, and I was fine, and we are beyond blessed.
Some of you know that Trent and I had quite a difficult time coming up with a name. We never find out the sex of the baby before birth. We enjoy the surprise of it all. But we accidentally found out this time. At our 20 week ultrasound, we brought my mom and all the kids. The ultrasound tech told us to look at away because she was going to look at the boy/girl parts and write the sex down for the doctor. We all looked away. After a minute or so, Elizabeth blurts out: "WHY DOES IT SAY BOY??" We all busted out laughing. It was hilarious. So Trent and I didn't even really think about girl names. The "name" conversation between us would always go something like this:
Me: So Trent, have you thought of any names?
Trent: Oh. Uh, no, not really.
Me: Me neither. Maybe we should talk about it?
Trent: Yeah, that's a good idea.
****silence****
Me: What about *insert name*?
Trent: Eh. I don't really like that. It reminds me of a crappy restaurant I ate at one time. What about *insert name*?
Me: I don't like that because I hate the potential nickname.
***silence***
***change of subject***
***Repeat conversation every month or so***
We found out that Archbishop Fulton John Sheen would be beatified sometime soon (for you non-Catholics reading, beatification is what makes someone a "blessed", which is the step before becoming a saint. Here is a short article explaining the process). An article about Archbishop Sheen can be found here. He is most known for his media work on television and radio. We have always loved his talks and books. We considered the name, but Trent said it reminded him of Fulton's Crab Shack (what's with all the restaurants??) and couldn't commit. I had a hard time committing too.
The day after he was born, we finally decided that Fulton John would be the name. We sent messages to family and friends. IT'S OFFICIAL NOW...no going back.
A few HOURS after we decided the name, the Vatican released a statement that Fulton Sheen's beatification would be taking place in Peoria, IL (where Sheen was ordained a priest) on December 21, 2019. Holy cow! If that wasn't a thumbs up from God, I don't know what would be.
So here we are, with our new baby Fulton. This has by far been my best post partum period because our parents have taken all the other kids for a week. So literally all I am doing is laying in bed with my baby and bonding and healing. My body hurts a lot more this time than last time. Harder labor? I'm getting older? Who knows. But nevertheless, I'm REALLY appreciating the rest time I am getting.
Thanks to everyone to all your prayers and support. It does make a difference and it means more to me than you know!!
