Adeline: Birth Story

We found out we were pregnant with Houston 4 during the first week of April, 2018, a year and a half and 3 angel babies after we first started trying to start a family.

Fast forward—

At my most recent checkup at 38w5d, I was only 2cm dilated.

On the morning of December 2nd, (39w1d) I woke up to regular contractions, 4 minutes apart, lasting 30 seconds. After an hour, they got more uncomfortable, so I left the bedroom and laid on the couch where I could moan in pain without waking Zach. By 9am, 3 hours after waking, I’d done enough googling to classify this as real labor. I was so surprised because we were 6 days early, and I hadn’t had any contractions previously. But, I didn’t want to be that person that goes to the hospital too early with false labor.


I hopped in the shower, and then woke up Zach, saying “I think the baby is coming today.” He didn’t believe me. He kept asking if I was sure, if he should call in to work, etc. I told him to get ready like this is real, and we’d go to the hospital to make sure it was true labor before he called out.
We arrived around 10a, went to triage in the birth center and was hooked up to monitors. I was at 5cm! And my contractions were the same consistency, just getting more painful. The on-call OB allowed me to stay, and I got to go to my room.

Nurse Taylor asked me what I wanted to do about pain, and I explained that I’d birthed naturally before (because I asked for the epidural too late with Ben, and it never got the chance to kick in), and would love to get the epidural early this time. The anesthesiologist came in 15 minutes later, and the epidural worked perfectly. I was honestly so lucky because the medicine dose was PERFECT. I could feel my body, feel the contractions, but I wasn’t in any pain. 

By now, it’s 11a, Zach has officially called in sick. We turned on football for entertainment. At 1p, nurse Taylor came in and checked me, and I’d progressed to 8cm. They ordered the delivery supplies cart to be brought in and everything to be prepped as much as possible since I was progressing quickly. The Seahawks game started, and I texted my mom and sister, Jen, explaining that I was admitted, and already at 8cm. They both immediately tried calling me. Jen was due to fly up on Thursday for a week, but now she had to change her flights to come early. Unfortunately, she would miss the birth, but she was able to come visit me that night after she got in late.

Around 3p, I started feeling pain again, which was disheartening because I really wanted the medicine to work. I hated the position I was in, but didn’t want to bother Taylor to come turn me. Eventually, though, the baby’s heart rate was dropping too much during the contractions, so she came to check up on me. I was finally put back on my back, and now I’m 10cm + 1, 100% effaced and literally having the baby.
The doctors were paged, a baby nurse rushed in, and my bed was collapsed and feet were in stirrups, all in about 2 minutes. The OB came in and checked me too, asked me to give a good practice push, and then she stopped me, because the baby was literally that close to coming out—no practice needed.


On the next contraction, I got to push for real, 10 seconds, 3 times. Her head was fully out. Without a contraction they asked me to push one more time to deliver the rest of her body. And she was here!

Adeline Ruth Houston

December 2nd, 2018

At 3:48pm

Weighing 8lbs 2.2oz

20” Long

I was in shock. It was too easy. Too quick. She was really here! She had the cutest little cry and sweetest face. This moment that I had been looking forward to for 4 years was real, was here, and was perfect. Zach was so happy and we were both crying.

I don’t remember much after that, it’s all a haze. But it was beautiful.
I texted my friend Naomi, and told her we delivered and we set up a time for her to come the next morning to take pictures for us.

This birth experience was truly incredible. It was peaceful and fun. It was ideal. And I don’t think I’ll get that lucky again.

I have healed pretty quickly. But, I have been absolutely tormented by breastfeeding. I was in so much pain for a week, literally dreading having to feed her. I had it in my head that I was failing myself and Adeline because I couldn’t do something so natural and easy that all these other women can do. I was just in so much pain, weeping every moment of the feeding. We eventually went out and got a manual breast pump, hoping I could continue to give her breast milk through a bottle. It worked. I pump now, 3 times a day, and give her a bottle. It still makes me so sad that I can’t just whip my boob out and feed her, that I’m missing this connection with her I’m supposed to have. But I’m just trying so hard to give her nutrients without encouraging a PPD complete breakdown.

Fed is best. And I know that. I feel that deep in my bones because my precious baby Ben was strictly formula fed and he is beautiful and healthy and perfectly chunky. But I just keep seeing FAILURE tattooed on my forehead. I worked up the courage to try again, to see if she’d latch better, to see if it’d be still just as painful, and it wasn't as bad as before but I have open sores again that never seem to heal. Maybe once everything actually heals; hopefully she won’t have forgotten me.

We are so in love with our little miracle! I want to thank every person who's shown me love and support throughout this journey to become a mother, for all the advice given, for all the gifts, and joy and love. It's so hard to believe how much time has past since Ben, how different the circumstances are this time around--I never would've believed it (but I definitely would've hoped for it!) 

It is so wonderful having a husband that loves and supports you through the pregnancy, and loves the baby, and helps you take care of her and yourself. I'm overjoyed to be a mother. It's the best. 

National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day is observed annually in the United States on October 15. It is a day of remembrance for pregnancy loss and infant death which includes, but is not limited to, miscarriage, still birth, SIDS or the death of a newborn.

The first time I’d ever heard of this national remembrance day, I was 18, and pregnant with Ben in Utah. Someone had tagged me in a post for a Facebook group made up entirely of women who had babies to remember. They shared pictures, mementos, tattoos, and stories about the short lived life of their pregnancy or child. It was a heart wrenching thing to read, and even more to be a part of. I made a little post, apologizing for not quite fitting into the group, but still feeling the loss of my infant through adoption. The wonderful thing about women like that is that they loved me and supported me like I belonged. Because losing Ben the day after he was born felt a lot like death.

Last October, I remembered losing Ben, but also the loss of Houston 1 and 2. This year, I have Houston 3 to remember as well. All my beautiful babies.

The community that I’ve found and been able to be a part of on Instagram has helped me put words to my feelings, and grow beyond my one-sided perspective. I follow adoptive parents, other birth moms, and hopeful adoptive parents, as well as agencies/support groups. I like to share things that really stick out to me, either because they word, so perfectly, the things I’m feeling, or because I want others to educate themselves on the complexity of these feelings and relationships. 

Adoptions and miscarriages touch our lives and those close to us more often than we can imagine, and knowing what to say, what not to say, and how to love the people going through it can really lighten their burden. Because when you’re in the thick of it, you feel all alone.

BEN

Now, I know Ben didn’t die, but my mind was so completely traumatized by losing him that I legitimately cannot connect the three year old I know today as the perfect baby I bore in the hospital. I don’t know how other birthmothers feel, but this is how I feel; it’s like he died. I walked out of there with an empty wound, empty arms, and so many tears. I grieved my loss. I ached with every ounce of emotion my body contained. And when I was dried up, I was like a zombie, until more tears could be produced. Maybe I feel this way because I was forced to give him up. I don’t know. The end lesson is, trauma is real, it seriously affects your brain, and your memories, and your emotions day to day as you remember. To this day, I wake up sometimes, thinking I have a child, searching for understanding, until the weight of losing him crashes down again, and I have to get up and move on, like it’s natural.

HOUSTON 1

When I miscarried 1, I was sad because I really wanted a baby. I was able to wrap my head around it pretty quickly because, logically, I understood that it was very soon after removing my birth control, and my body might not have been fully built up to support a child. Also, I had had a pretty serious fever for 3 days right as I found out I was pregnant, and lost it a couple days later. Fevers that early in a pregnancy are very bad for babies. So putting those facts together, I was able to step back and feel sad for my loss, but still hopeful for my future family.

HOUSTON 2

2 wrecked me. I was just completely devastated. I still have nightmares about the day I lost 2. I was only 20, and in perfect health, and yet I had my second miscarriage, and a very rare kind where I carried my mostly dead baby for 4 extra weeks. And then for 2 months after that, my hormone levels were still so high, that if I had taken a pregnancy test, it would have read positive.

I remember the ER doctor’s face. I remember yelling at him and my mom “how many do I have to lose?!” I remember him frantically searching for tissues that I used entirely.

3 months of loving this baby. I loved this baby so so so much. Whenever I feel sad about my miscarriages, I always think back to this one.

HOUSTON 3

When we got a positive test result, I was determined to not get attached because I knew it would die. And yet I got attached anyway (because hey, it’s still my baby after all). I was in a very public setting when it all happened, and I still cried my eyes out and screamed, even though I knew it was going to happen.

I cannot count the tears I’ve shed over my three babies and Ben. Grief is a horrible pain, a numbing emptiness, and a never ending, aching reminder of what could’ve, and should’ve been.

I don’t know what lesson I was meant to learn from losing not only Ben, but my three miscarriages too. Did I really need 4 examples? Did I not properly learn a mother’s love after Ben, that the it needed to be carved into me deeper? What did I miss?

There is a woman I follow on Instagram, named Elise Harris, who lost her twins halfway through pregnancy. She got their names tattooed on the inside of her arms, and said this about them: “I thought about getting my tattoos and ultimately decided that they were for me. Everyone else gets to physically have their children with them. They get to carry them in their arms and hold them. But I don’t. But having the tattoos of their names on my arms is a way for me to also have my children with me physically. To hold and to carry always.”

I talked to Zach about me getting a tattoo for a long time; we even went and met with an artist and talked about the process and my design. When I finally decided to do it, I was pregnant with H2, and therefore couldn’t get it. And then I rethought my ideas, now to include these Houston babies. So now, once Houston 4 is born and no longer breastfeeding, I can finally get my tattoo. Because I want them in my arms like it should've been. 

HOUSTON 4

This pregnancy has been SO much harder than I’d anticipated. I’ve been working at least 40 hours per week, in an understaffed department leaving me with the majority of the heavy lifting—literally. Good news is, I’ll be super fit for birthing and my arms are strong so hopefully carrying around a 8 pound nugget won’t be too hard. She’s incredibly active; she never stops kicking. I’ve gained more weight in these 31 weeks than I did my entire pregnancy with Ben.

My emotions have seriously caught me off guard. I think everyone close to me has been hoping this baby will provide some good healing to my heart. But, my depression is still much more significant than I’m comfortable with. My thoughts get really scary sometimes. I’ve been grieving Ben and my Houston babies a lot.

I stopped wearing my necklace because one day, I just got so freaking mad that that is all I have of Ben; I want more, I want HIM, not some necklace.

I get really irritable when people ask me how many kids I have or if this is my first. Because I have had 4 babies. This is my 5th. But I just tell them that I do have a boy, and then they act like my family is complete now that I have a girl too.. and I just want to die.

I’ve been having anxiety too. 

I had a panic attack at work and was crying on the floor, on the phone with Zach for 30 minutes one day.

I’ve talked with one of my mama friends on Instagram about connecting to this baby, because it feels so unnatural to actually get to keep her and take her home and she’ll be a real person, my person; will it be instantaneous? if it isn’t, does that make me a bad mom? Can I keep her to myself until I feel safe and bonded? Because everyone is going to want to see her, but that scares me, because what if they take her?

What if they don’t think I’m going to be a good mom, like they did with Ben?

Am I allowed to not have my dad bless this baby at church? Because that’s going to be a super awkward conversation.

Do I really have to go on a road trip less than a month after she’s born for step-family in-laws? What if people kiss her and she gets a cold and I don’t know what to do?

And.

What if she leaves me like all my other babies?

What if she hates me, and doesn’t bond?

I feel like I have no control, and suppressing all these crazy downs while dealing with super the great high of actually being able to have this baby, it's all driving me crazy. 

Anyway--today is a good day to love on those women around you who have miscarried, or lost a baby. Pray for them, say hello, send them a card. Even if it isn't specific, just love on them. 1 in 4 women have had a miscarriage, 1 in 8 couples are struggling with infertility. There's probably someone close to you that you could help today. 

A New Season

Zach and I are so so so so unbelievably excited for this new season in our life because I AM PREGNANT! Houston #4 is on its way, and every week feels like we are leaping and bounding towards parenthood. We got the news on April 5th, with a beautifully strong positive test result. I was feeling hopeful, sad, positive, scared, doubtful, but still overjoyed at this opportunity again. While some couples struggling with infertility pray for a positive pregnancy test, we just pray that it will actually last, since our last three haven't made it past that 8 week mark. I was able to get a 6-week ultrasound since I'm high-risk due to multiple miscarriages, and I got to see the little baby. After that, our intuition told us this was the one. We were both extremely positive that this baby will actually be in our arms, coming home with us. Throughout further appointments, we crossed our fingers that there was still a heartbeat, and each time, our doctor was able to find it, strong and healthy.

As of now, we are 18 weeks along, almost halfway, and have our 20-week anatomical scan scheduled for the end of the month. We are so excited to set up the baby room and decorate (in more than just grays.) We are grateful for every movement we feel, every chance we have to hear its heartbeat, and every bottle of ginger ale curing the symptoms of this beautiful pregnancy. 

I only show if I eat lots of food. Even this far along, I'm tiny and skinny. 

Hawaiian Honeymoon (1 Year Later)

Zach and I never officially went on a honeymoon last year; our trip to Europe was with my family 100% of the time. So I booked tickets to Oahu back in January and happened to pick the best week to leave for both of our jobs! We got to avoid crazy busy weeks.

The trip started off quite crazy though. We left Seattle at 5:50am and arrived in Oakland, just to find out that our flight to Oahu was moved up an entire hour, AND had left 10 minutes early. Basically, we missed the flight. I had several freak out moments when no one was being helpful and all the Hawaiian Air staff were gone from the airport until 5pm that night for the next flight. While I was on hold with customer service, we had to book new tickets to get there that day, since we had an AirBnB and car payed for and I wasn't about to waste money. After a lovely chat with Hawaiian Air, he finally conceded to a full refund!

While we were able to do a lot of the things we wanted, I got super sick the first day, practically feinted, and then was just completely exhausted for the rest of the trip, taking naps every day, and struggling to eat. And then Zach weighs to much to ride the horses, which is ridiculous since he really isn't that big. Although if you saw my Instagram, he did let me post a picture of him calling him a beached whale.

Laie, Hawaii Temple

The grounds were SO beautiful. Last time I was here 8 years ago, it was closed for renovation. I'm so glad we went back. We also visited the Polynesian Culture Center (thanks Krissy) which was amusing, but we didn't get to stay for the show because we were so tired. We go to bed here at 7-8p, and the show didn't start till 10p Seattle time, so we left early. 

Pearl Harbor Memorial

I got really sick this day, and the attractions cost SO MUCH MONEY so we did everything we possibly could that was free. There were two small walk-through museums, and I'm so grateful for the memory refresher on how tragic everything was surrounding WWII. 

My grandpa Steinhilber fought in the war, but over in Europe, in Battle of the Bulge, and with Patton. History has always been interesting to me, but a foreign concept since I've never been affected by war. Learning that my relatives took part and their impact always astounds me. 

Dole Pineapple Plantation

My favorite fruit is pineapple. And I will use any excuse to go on a chu-chu-train. 

Waimea Falls

My mom and dad went here on their honeymoon, so I really wanted to go too. Luckily the walk/hike was only 1.5 miles so I was actually able to do it, even being sick. 

Over all, it was a good trip. It was nice being with each other and not having to work. It was nice to relax and not feel guilty about finishing the kitchen or staying up too late. 

Infertility After Adoption: Mother's Day

It’s much easier to put the pain of this day aside when you choose to act like it isn’t happening. This is my third Mother’s Day; 3rd year without Ben, 1st year without all three of my Houston babies.
Infertility after adoption has been devastating. It makes me love the babies that surround me even more. It makes the sicknesses of pregnancy worth it in the hopes a baby will come out of it at the end. Somehow the world keeps spinning, and I along with it.

Just a couple weeks ago, it was National Infertility Awareness Week. And that whole week struck me much harder than it ever has, since I've now realized this is a real thing I'm dealing with. 

By some random chance, I found a woman on Instagram who battled with infertility and wrote some amazing things about her journey that resonate so much, and I want to share them. Her handle is @Huntersofhappiness

"One day I realized that the people that make insensitive comments did not realize that this was a real medical problem with a diagnosis and a treatment. They were unaware about what infertility really is and what it entails or didn't know what to say, so they said something silly."

I've blocked people on social media simply because of the things they say, thinking they are encouraging. My body is unique. And right now, it's broken and they can't figure out why. I am not your cousins sister's husband's ex-girlfriend who's going through the exact same thing. My infertility is mine and my husbands. It's our unique genes, my unique eggs and uterus. My story will never be the same as anyone else's. So please, for the love of all things sane, do not tell me some random advice because it may have worked for "Suzy."

"Hope is happiness. I remember the pain of our 2nd failed (pregnancy). It was crushing. Everything had gone perfectly. We had so much HOPE that it would work. I was angry and so sad. I remember thinking that the pain was so intense because I had been so hopeful. It was then that I decided the next month I would have no hope. I would plan or it to fail and then it wouldn't be as painful when it did. So that next month I did it. I had zero hope and got a negative result again.  That month, I was miserable and so incredibly unhappy. I realized that hope is happiness. Sure, hope might make the day that your hope is crushed a little more painful, but the whole rest of the month was so much happier. We have to have hope."

This hit me so hard. After losing Houston one, I was just confused. When we got pregnant with Houston 2, and saw his heartbeat and watched him on the ultrasound, I was SO happy. He was right on track with my pregnancy with Ben, so I knew this would happen then. And then he died, and it was one of the worst pains I've ever felt. I hated everything in life. I hated Ben for leaving me. I hated Zach for not being able to save the baby. I hated myself so freaking much, I can't even describe it. I was so done with even trying for a baby, because all we ever did was try and try and fail and fail and it was shredding me to pieces. 
When we got pregnant with Houston 3, I was more depressed than ever. I told myself "don't get attached, don't take pictures. It's going to die. That's what happens." I told myself that for weeks. I tried to never get excited. And then when he died on New Year's day in one of my favorite restaurants, the agony was just as real. 
I've done it both ways, hopeful, and not hopeful. In the end the baby always dies. But how many more good days could there have been had I been happier, rather than staying under my rain cloud? 

"Many hardships in life are an event. They happen, they are devastating, then you begin the grieving process; denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and eventually, acceptance. When you live with infertility, you go through the process every month, and often times, you don't even have time to get all the way through before your next cycle comes."

You might find me on a good day. You'll usually find me on a day where I'm faking it really well. Then there are some days where I can't even try. The pain is so real. Losing 4 children? How can I be expected to survive this? How can I ever accept it when I know that no peace can be found without reclamation, aka a new baby? I know what could potentially be the ultimate fix, and I'm destroying myself further to get to it. 

"I'm sorry. I am asked on a pretty regular basis what people can say or do to help, comfort and support friends or family members going through infertility. The short answer is to say I'm sorry: I'm sorry you're going through this, I'm sorry you have to experience this pain and heartache, I'm sorry your baby is not in your arms, I'm sorry that this totally isn't fair.

It's simple but it's powerful. It validates the hardship of infertility while also expressing your sympathies. To those who have never experienced infertility themselves, they often have no clue what to say. I love you doesn't have to be a grand gesture. So many amazing friends and family sent me flowers, randomly dropped off care packages, gave me a thoughtful piece of jewelry, sent a card, a simple text or phone call."

When I lost Ben, my front door was heart-attacked by the LDS Singles ward, people I didn't even know but who knew about me thanks to my brother in law. I received so many cookies. They were so good, and they filled me up for days. And I was so grateful to those people. Receiving cookies literally made my day, that's how low I was. There were also a lot of flowers. And one amazing woman, Andrea, gave me a card too. It was one you would find under the loss/grief section of Hallmark. The words, though generated to sympathize with death, happened to be the perfect description for what I was going through. I read that card a thousand times, thinking to myself, "finally, someone sees that this adoption has completely destroyed me. It's like he died." The human mind is not equip to deal with adoption. It sees it as infant loss. What once was there is now gone. And even when I see him now, it is not something my brain can compute. He is not the 27 hours old baby I held in my arms. He's this totally different person who is nothing like me. He is their child, because mine died after I walked out of that hospital. 
If that seems too cruel of me to say, I hope you never have to experience this pain. It is life-altering. It's never ending. 

Motherhood is near to divinity. 
I am a mother of 4 beautiful children. One day, I'll get my 3 Houston's back. But not the child who's loss continues to rip at my soul every day. 

3

Today is my sweet baby's birthday!
That's right, Ben is 3.

It is absolutely insane how fast the time has gone.
It is absolutely insane how slow the time has gone.
The pain and every bit of the experience is so fresh in my mind.
I have days where I wake up and feel like a normal 21 year old.
I have days where I wake up and immediately look around for my bear cub that was stolen from me.
I have days where I wake up and almost drive to Andrew's house instead of work and demand him to give me my life back, and if he can't figure that out, at least give me my baby back.
I have days where I can't look at my parents because they didn't love me enough to save me, and let me keep my baby.
I have days where I hate Ben for forgetting me, for leaving me, for loving his parents instead of me, for warming up and playing with everyone but me. It's like he senses that I'm different than everyone else and doesn't approach me because of it.
I have days where I love Ben so freaking much it's paralyzing, and I end up on the floor of a room at work crying my eyes out because how it is possible for my heart to be this full yet this empty?
I have days where I want to pretend that those three years with Andrew never happened, that the pregnancy didn't happen, that the abuse never happened, that I just decided not to go to college and worked instead; that I am normal.
I have days where I think about every little thing I could have and should have done differently so that Andrew and I never dated, that we never got pregnant, that I never let him force into adoption, that I never researched it, that I never prayed and pleaded with God, that Ben came and I left Andrew to raise him safely, that Andrew came back to me and actually loved me, and if not, then my mom helped me raise Ben until Zach finally came into our lives and took us in.
I have days where I think Ben is better off without me, just like everyone keeps saying.
I have days where I'm some how able to get Ben back, that he magically loves me and calls me mommy, and it's like the last three years never happened, and we were a normal family.

Ben is literally my whole world. Everything begins and ends with him. He has my whole heart, and the majority of my tears. His birth was the most magical experience, and his departure was the most earth-shattering. I love him so much.

"My last birthday, I'd closed my eyes and thought of nothing when I leaned over my cake. You stop believing in wishes when the only one you want to make can never come true." (Sarah Dessen)

"The brightness of the sky outside, the filtered sunlight through the tree just past my window, the most beautiful fall, everyone agreed. It probably was. But even though I was there, and lived it, I couldn't have said so... you, too, can disappear in plain sight if enough is taken from you. I was missing, in many ways. And I wasn't sure I wanted to be found." (Sarah Dessen)

My little book worm!