Only here...

Only in this context would a middle-aged man make a comment about how much weight I've lost, immediately followed by the question, "Are you still nursing your baby?" while gesturing and cupping what would be a breast, if he had any.

He was concerned that I wasn't eating enough and or course, as he told me, that is important when you're a nursing mom. I joked that I only eat tortillas and beans as my new diet, which in retrospect wasn't that funny since we have staff who literally only eat that every day. But we all had a good laugh and moved on. It struck me how this conversation wouldn't have happened in the US, at least in any of my circles.

It's interesting to be in a culture that has mixed messages about breastfeeding. On the one hand, it's a common part of daily life, and me deciding to nurse wherever and whenever, in general, doesn't get a second glance. It's seen as a natural and expected way to nourish a child. There's no shame. I see moms nursing their babies all the time (interestingly, most often indigenous women). It's just what it is, food for a baby. If only the US could figure it out. It's so frustrating, the double standard that breastfeeding offends so many people, but women dressed overly sexy is not a problem. What most often looks silly here is trying to cover that feeding process up for the sake of others.

Then there is this other part of the culture that pushes formula and bottles. Our nurses at the hospital where Ruby was born had no clue what to do with me since I refused formula and wanted to exclusively breastfeed. I had to explain to them it was not only OK, but necessary, to wake up the baby every few hours so I could nurse her. I had to fight hard to not let them give her formula and to allow her to be in the room with me in the middle of the night so I could feed her when she needed.

Yes, I've lost weight. Yes, I'm eating well. Yes, I'm still nursing my baby.

Remembering Last Year

A year ago today I was headed to my 39 week check-up. I assumed I had at least another week or two, considering both my girls were induced close to a week past my due date. I had plenty of work to finish up, and my mom was going to be arriving that weekend. The girls were going to be starting a new school that week. Everything was planned and under control.

39 weeks, heading to the hospital

I didn't have an ultrasound with either of my other girls at 39 weeks, but I did with Ruby. And thankfully so, because the doctor could see the cord wrapped around her neck, and recommended a c-section within 24 hours. I'm so thankful that we were here in Guatemala, with this doctor, who saw this.

So, plans changed, I panicked a bit, mostly thinking about the girls and what to do with them. (We were so thankful to live next door to wonderful neighbors whom we trusted to take care of our girls).

I remember stopping by the school the next day, a couple hours before we headed to the hospital, to take care of a few last minute details before school started. I was so sad I'd be missing the girls' first day of school. It felt surreal to be running errands, knowing with a scheduled c-section that day we were hours away from holding our little Ruby Mayana.

I remember laying on the cold, sterile bed in the operating room. A swirl of Spanish around me, trying to focus on the words. I felt surprisingly alone. Tears kept trickling down my face. I was scared for Ruby, thankful at the same time, knowing this was for the best. (As you can see in the picture, the anesthesiologist was my buddy, kept me calm, and loved using his English with me).

One of my favorite memories was caught on video: right after Ruby was born, she was crying and Michael held her by my face, and I started talking to her...and she stopped crying when she heard my voice.

And I can't help but post a few favorite pictures from those first moments in the hospital with all three of my girls, even though most of them I posted last year.




Happy Last Day of Being 11 Months, Ruby Mayana!

A quick first year

Maybe it's because the girls are headed back to school this week, suddenly one year older, or maybe it's normal with the last baby, but I'm feeling a whole mix of emotions as I try to mentally prepare myself for my baby to turn 1 this week.

I was feeling a little emotional and told Ruby this morning, "I'm not ready for you to grow up." And Ellie responded, "I want Ruby to get big so I can play with her." Which reminded me there are definitely things to look forward to in this next stage of normal.

Every time I see a pregnant woman I think, I'm so glad I won't have to go through that again. Which is true, almost 100%.

One of these days soon, Ruby will finally sleep through the night consistently. My guess is she will wean from nursing over the next few months. The last remnants of her first year will fade away.

She's sooooo close to walking. More and more she is wanting to play "with" her sisters. She has several teeth. Like 8 or so (can you tell she's not the first child?)

Teethy Grin

For some reason getting her to eat solid foods was much more difficult than I remember with her two sisters, but we're finally in a good place where she basically eats anything we eat. That's such a good place to be. No more purees, no more separate foods for her. That may be one of my least favorite baby stages-the amount of time spent on preparing food for babies, only to watch them take two bites and spit the rest out.

So yeah, my little Ruby is getting more independent. My older two are starting preschool this week where they will grow in their own independence. Somehow, the first year of Ruby's life flew by. I did what I could to embrace it. During those middle of the night feedings, I tried to enjoy the extra snuggles, the feeling of being needed and providing what no one else can. But with her first birthday comes the glaring realization that, as they say, the days are long but the years are short. 

On Knowing She's Our Last

Having our third (and final) child has already been a fascinating experience. Today Ruby is 5 weeks old. There is such a range of emotions with a newborn in the house, and it's definitely true that the last one brings its own unique set of experiences.

Knowing it's my last means I can acknowledge the parts I will miss. Like, the incredible miracle of seeing that positive pregnancy test; feeling those first flutters of movement and knowing a baby is moving and growing; excitement and wonder about what the gender is, and what name we will choose, and who this little person will become.

On the other hand, I was so ready to be done being pregnant. I won't miss feeling humongous and not being able to sleep on my stomach. I won't miss the nausea or having to pee every 5 minutes. I won't miss having no lap for my girls to sit on, or not being able to tie my own shoes, or the swollen feet. I'm looking forward to being able to exercise and know that every effort I make won't be in vain, since I won't be expecting another round of weight gain.

I won't miss everyone telling me how big I am. I won't miss maternity clothes, though since I can't fit into my regular clothes yet, I have yet to say goodbye to most of them. I look forward to the day I pack them away, though this time will feel different, knowing I won't be saving them for a potential "next time."

I won't miss the dread of potential labor pains and fear surrounding the birth. Yet, I can never replicate hearing that first loud squeal right after birth, when I'm so relieved to hear her crying and my heart is suddenly flooded with so much love that it feels like it could burst. I've been blessed to experience that three times in my life, and nothing will ever come close to the emotions and love I have felt in those first precious moments of relief mixed with tears of joy and thankfulness and awe of such perfect creation.

I won't miss being spit up on, but I will miss having a baby so small she can cuddle on my chest.

I won't miss waking up every 2-3 hours in the night to a deafening cry, but I will miss being able to soothe and comfort her when no one else can.

I won't miss the stress and soreness of those first few weeks of learning together how to nurse, but I am grateful I have the ability to provide nourishment for my child, and that we've figured it out. I'm thankful I have the option to nurse, that my body is strong and that I get enough nourishment myself to be able to feed my baby too. (I've been reflecting on this privilege because I know there are many women who would nurse if they could, but may be so malnourished or have other issues so that they can't produce the milk they need to adequately feed their baby).

I will miss the smallness of a newborn and those little frog legs that haven't stretched out yet.

I hope I don't forget how enamored Ellie and Hazel are with Ruby. I want to remember how much they love holding her and kissing her. How much they adore her little nose and feet and how excited they get when Ruby grabs ahold of one of their fingers. How Ellie constantly tells me how cute Ruby is. How Hazel calls Ruby, "mine." I want to remember those moments someday when I have three girls fighting and screaming over what I can only imagine to be my future with three girls.

I don't want to rush through these moments with Ruby as a newborn since I know they are the last. I'm trying to savor the parts that I know I will miss of this stage of life with my three sweet girls. 

It's going to be a crazy, wild ride. Not a day goes by that I don't remind myself what a blessing it is to have three amazing, beautiful, healthy little girls, none of which I want to take for granted.

40 Days: A Guatemalan Custom

At Ruby's 2-week check-up (actually she was 18 days old) she weighed in at a whopping 8 pounds 1 ounce. This was odd, since that's what she weighed when she was born. At least, that's what the scale said.

Since her birth we have had doubts that she really was that weight. She felt so much smaller, and reminded us much more of Ellie's size (who was 7 pounds 4 ounces), and less like Hazel (who was 8 pounds 6 ounces). So, when the scale rang in 18 days later as her birth weight, it made us pause. She's been eating great so that isn't an issue. Hazel gained almost a whole pound in her first weeks, so we assume Ruby has been gaining weight. We will never know for sure, but our guess is that she was incorrectly weighed at birth. Either way, everyone at the hospital kept telling us how big she was (8 pounds is a very big baby in Guatemala), while to us she felt tiny.

Today we took her to church for the first time. We've had several outings since she was born, and haven't really hesitated to do so. Our entire family had nasty colds over the last week or two. Ruby was probably exposed to more germs at home than when we've left the house.

In Guatemala, the common practice is that the baby and mom stay at home for 40 days and don't go anywhere. Usually this time includes the grandmother staying with the family (or the family staying with the grandparents) to help out. There are no meal deliveries from friends at church (oh how I miss that from the States!), or people stopping by to help. Instead, the mother of the mother is usually relied on for this time.  Fortunately for us, my mom was able to be here for about three weeks. It was a big help to have an extra pair of hands to cook and do laundry and just be around to distract the older girls. She left yesterday, and now we are beginning to adjust to life as a family of 5.

Today, as a family of 5

Because we've been out and about, we have been getting a lot of stares and surprised looks when people ask us how old Ruby is, and we tell them. She's less than 40 days, yet we are not at home.

Between her age and her small (to us) size, and the fact that we are white Americans with a small baby, something not too common around here, she's somewhat of a phenomenon everywhere we go.

Tomorrow Michael goes to work, and the girls will be at school in the morning. Ruby and I will have our first morning home alone together. Another new normal begins.

She's Here! (Ruby's Birth Story)

In keeping with tradition, I wanted to write out Ruby's birth story. Unlike Ellie's or Hazel's, there's not a lot of intense detail, as it ended up being a scheduled cesarean. 

We went in for a check-up on Monday, January 12. It was my 39-week check and an ultrasound. Everything had been looking good up to this point. I was very pleased with my weight gain overall, as I gained less than I did with either of the other girls and gained exactly in the range I had hoped for.

The doctor predicted she was about 7 and half pounds, and then paused to tell us that the cord seemed to be wrapped around her neck. I have to say that technology is so amazing. Using infrared technology, the doctor could detect where the blood flow was, and suddenly a bright orange cord showed up around the base of her head. Sure enough, the cord was around her neck.

We talked about our options. We had been planning on this last week for work and wrapping up details before my mom arrived that following Sunday. We had just found out that morning that the girls were supposed to start school THIS week, not the next like we thought (which meant we had school supplies to buy, paperwork to complete, etc.). The timing wasn't ideal (it never really is with babies). Given my history with long overdue babies, and bigger babies, and being induced every time, our doctor was concerned about what could happen if I went into labor with her cord wrapped around her neck. 

So of course we chose to do what would be best and safest for our baby. We scheduled the C-section for the next afternoon. I went outside and started panicking. I couldn't stop crying, for the sake of my baby's health, of course, and I couldn't stop worrying about what we'd do with Ellie and Hazel. We didn't have much of a back-up plan, and a C-section meant at least 2-3 nights at the hospital. 

Fortunately, we've been blessed with awesome neighbors and co-workers who all pitched in. We knew the girls were happy and safe and well-taken care of, and they got to stick to their routine of starting their new school, which we decided was best for them. 

So, Monday night we spent time calling family, writing out instructions for the girls, and getting details ironed out, like, finally choosing her name! On Tuesday morning we ran a few errands, finalized details at the girls' new school, and headed to the hospital. It was surreal to know that within a few hours, our baby would be here.

Me at 39 weeks, a few hours before we went to the hospital.

We checked in and got settled into our room. We realized it would be an interesting experience doing everything in Spanish. They wanted to know my height, in centimeters, and it took several of us and a calculator and conversion chart to finally calculate my height. Silly Americans not using centimeters. When it was time for me to head into the surgery room alone, it hit me what was about to happen. I laid there on the surgery bed, back exposed, waiting for the epidural, and I found myself cold and a little scared. It was hard to be dealing with everything in Spanish. I felt out of control, laying there, knowing there was nothing I could do but wait and hope and pray our little baby would come out safe. Our awesome anesthesiologist spoke English and loved using it with me. He talked me through everything and helped me feel included in the process. 

Being coached by the anesthesiologist. 

Her arrival. 4:00 PM.

My favorite moment was right after Ruby was born, when Michael put Ruby up next to my face. I was still strapped down, but our cheeks were touching. She was crying, and when I started talking to her, she stopped, turned her head towards me, and listened to my voice. We have a sweet video of this that I will always treasure. 

Ruby Mayana Chapman

born at 4:00PM on Tuesday, January 13, 2015 in Guatemala City, Guatemala. 8 lbs 1 oz. 

Ruby is a name we've always liked, and considered using it for Hazel.

For her middle name, we wanted a name that was a form of Marie or Maria or Mary, because she has a grandma Mary, a great-grandma Mary, and another great-grandma Marie, plus several other family members with a similar name. 

Mayana, at its roots comes from the name Mary, so it was a perfect pick.

My mom's middle name is Anita, a form of Ana. 

We also wanted a Guatemalan, Mayan, or Spanish connection, and Mayana contains "Mayan," an important cultural part of Guatemala and people we work with here.

I had been searching online for names and found this name a few days before she was born, despite our family thinking we had had a name picked out all along. 

Moments after birth.

Getting acquainted.

Tiny.

After her first bath.

When we had toured the hospital a few weeks earlier, we had been told that the hospital policy is that the baby can only be held by us and the nurses, and that if we ever have visitors the baby couldn't even be in the room with us. They also said that the baby would stay in the nursery all night long except if we wanted her for nursing. I had been upset at the time, because I wanted my girls and family to be able to meet Ruby at the hospital. Well, we're not sure how it happened, but this rule didn't seem to get enforced while we were there, which meant our girls got to come to the hospital and meet and hold Ruby. It was a special time, and I missed them so much I was happy I got to see my girls for a short time.

Some of my favorite pictures from their first meeting:

First family photo.

Big sister Hazel.

The three sisters. Pure Love.

Checking out little fingers.

Super proud oldest sister.

Hazel loves to kiss and hold her baby sister. Almost every picture I have of these two are of Hazel kissing Ruby.

Overall, we were proud of having had a baby in a Spanish-speaking hospital. It felt like we accomplished a big feat, especially for me, with my Spanish not being as strong as Michael's. There were only a few language misunderstandings, like when I accidentally said yes to getting sleeping pills instead of just pain pills.

It was interesting to be in a hospital where nursing a baby exclusively is not the norm, and is not understood, even by (or especially by) the nurses. We had to explain to them that we wanted her every few hours to feed her, even if it meant waking her up. A few times during the night we had to request that they bring her to us. The nurses just assumed we'd feed her whenever she woke up, which could be several hours. The norm here seemed to be to bottle feed during the night so the mother can rest, and maybe, if nursing at all, to nurse some during the day. They wheeled her out of the room every time she needed a diaper change, and wouldn't bring her back until we asked for her, which was frustrating, at times. 

Had this been my first baby, I may not have lasted more than a day or two with nursing. There was absolutely zero help or support in this area. Our experience in California was starkly different, with a lactation consultant on staff at the hospital, and our pediatrician taking specific time with us to make sure nursing was going well (and eventually clipping both Ellie and Hazel's tongues to aid with nursing). I think eventually the nurses gave up understanding us, and just mostly left us alone. They knew it was our third baby, or they may have been more pushy. 

It's been good to be home. We are adjusting to life with three. My mom has been here for over a week and it's been nice to have extra help. Ruby is sleeping and eating about every 3 hours at night. During her first week or so, only her Daddy could soothe her at night, unless she needed to be fed. She loves to be held, although fortunately she's getting more used to falling asleep without being held. 

One difference with the birth of our third is that because the girls go to school every morning, I'm actually able to rest and take some time for myself, something I could do after Ellie's birth, but was much more difficult with Hazel, as I was home full-time with both girls. 

As Ruby turned 2 weeks old yesterday, here are some highlights from her life so far:

So many snuggles lately.

Lots of photo opportunities. 

Ruby's first overnight outing was to Antigua. 

Michael got some funny looks with his bulky sweater.

Playing games and quality time with all three. 

Ruby couldn't have more proud sisters than these two.  

2 weeks old. Hazel is excited that Ruby can roll her tongue just like her and Mama.

Happy 2 weeks, Ruby Mayana!

Big Sister Hazel

The thought to write a blogpost has fluttered across my mind over the last several weeks. I've been absent.

But then I decide I'm too tired. Or uninspired. Or nauseous. Or hungry.

I think they are good excuses. I'm 14 weeks pregnant today, which means I'm officially entering the 2nd trimester. The nausea is supposed to stop. With Ellie, it did stop around now. With Hazel, it lingered a few more weeks.

Either way, this pregnancy has felt a bit different. The nausea seems stronger and more constant than it did with the girls. I feel more tired (although my husband doesn't think I "seem" more tired than I did with the other two pregnancies, so maybe it's my imagination.)

There are always a variety of emotions that come along with a pregnancy. Obviously, gratitude, because I'm acutely aware of the difficulty for so many of my family and friends to get pregnant. It's a downright miracle just to get a positive pregnancy test. Then of course, due to our own experience miscarrying at 10 weeks several years ago, getting through the first trimester is a momentous hurdle. And then the rest of the pregnancy remains.

There have been thoughts like, "we are going to be outnumbered!" and "can you imagine if we have another girl? 3 girls equals a lot of drama!" and "I can't remember what it's like to have a newborn."

We are thrilled to be having a baby. We will have a chapin or chapina (guatemalan) baby, which is fun. Both of the girls were born in the same hospital and delivered by the same doctor in Fresno, so this entire pregnancy and birth process will be different. I'm curious about the differences between American culture and here. I've already had two ultrasounds and this baby is healthy, and from the mouth of my doctor, "perfect." We are blessed and thankful. And I'm hungry.

I have proof

Someone inherited a habit from her Daddy's family of sticking her tongue out while concentrating.

Her Grandma, Great-Aunt, Aunt, and Cousin all do it.

I tried to find proof of other family concentrating, but this is what I could find:

Cousin Isabelle painting
(A few years ago)

(UPDATE! I found proof that the girls' grandma does it!)

And here's proof that it happens all the time:

While bike-riding

While playing in dirt 

While gluing 

While snacking

While playing baseball

While puzzling

Happy 20 months to my hijita!

It's incredible to imagine that Hazel is almost the same age Ellie was when Hazel was born. 

Hazel-a few hours old
Ellie-20 1/2 months old