Cinnamon Rolls

So, this blog was never intended to be all about "my sucky childbirth" experiences...they're part of who I've become, but that's it, they're just a small part of our life. I created this blog to motivate myself to continue to learn new things and to be a better person. I figure if I write down what I'm up to, then maybe I'll strive to be more interesting than the SAHM who watches NCIS marathons.

I made cinnamon rolls from scratch today...I can tell you, these are definitely not for the faint of heart. They take a lot of work, I'm not gonna lie, but they're totally worth it in the end!

For those interested, here is the recipe

Dough
4-4 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 package active dry yeast
1 cup milk
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup butter or margarine
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 eggs

Filling
1/4 all purpose flour
1 tablespoon cinnamon
1/3 cup butter or margarine

Optional

1/2 cup golden raisins
1/2 cup chopped pecans

1 recipe for vanilla frosting or cream cheese icing

In a large mixing bowl (I use my cuisinart) combine 2 cups of the flour and the yeast; set it aside.


In a small saucepan, heat and stir milk, granulated sugar, 1/3 cup butter and salt until warm (120-130 degrees F) until butter almost melts. Also preheat oven to 200 degrees. When oven is preheated, turn it off. You're creating a warm place for dough to rise.

Add to flour mixture along with eggs. Beat with an electric mixer on low to medium speed for 30 seconds, scraping bowl. Beat on high speed for 3 minutes. (I use my cuisinart dough hook... so I omit the next "wooden spoon" step).

Using a wooden spoon (or your cuisinart dough hook) stir in as much of the remaining 2-2 1/2 cups flour as you can.

Turn out on a floured surface. Knead in enough remaining flour to make a moderately soft dough that is smooth and elastic (about 3 minutes of kneading).
Shape dough into a ball. Place in a lightly greased bowl, turning once to coat the surface of the dough. Cover with a clean kitchen towel and allow it to rise in a warm place until it doubles in size (I wait 90 minutes)


Punch dough down. Turn on a lightly floured surface. Divied int half. cover and let rest 10 minutes. Lightly grease baking pans (I use pie plates, but any shallow baking dish will do) and set them aside.


To make filling, stir together cinnamon, brown sugar and flour. Using a pastry blender, cut in butter until it resembles coarse crumbs. Or, you could do what I do, grate the butter using a cheese grater and mix it it together...I find it's easier to "cut butter in,..." I don't have a pastry blender, so I just use a fork.

Roll dough out into a 12x8 rectangle. Sprinkle filling over dough, leaving 1 inch unfilled on one long side. Roll up each rectangle, starting from the filled long side. Pinch dough to seal seams. Slice into 12 equal parts. I do this by cutting in 1/2, then 1/2 again, then 3rds. Arrange in pans. Cover and let rise in a warm place until double in size (about 30 minutes)





Preheat oven to 375F. Bake for about 20 minutes until golden brown. Cool about 5 minutes, remove from pans (if desired...I leave them in there). Frost as desired. I like to make a cream cheese icing..or better yet, buy one from the store...after all the work you just put in, finishing with something easy is pretty nice :)

VBAC Regret

ACOG just came out with new recommendations for VBACs (vaginal birth after cesaerean), and once again, I'm completely sick that I'm having a repeat c-section. It seems like just when I make "peace" with the fact that I'm having another c-section, a new article comes out about how it can be better to VBAC. So, why am I not having a VBAC? Well, since I haven't posted Boyd's story, here it goes...

The twins were born via c-section because they were breech. When I found out I was pregnant again, a VBAC was what I wanted. I come from a long line of women who have no problems "birthing babies," and I certainly didn't want a repeat of what happened when I had the twins. All natural was my dream. No allergic reactions, no catheters, and no lengthy hospital stays. My OB was in complete agreement that for me, a VBAC was a good option.

Flash forward to my 3rd trimester...Our local hospital put a ban on VBAC's unless the mother has had a previous vaginal delivery. My OB offered to put me in touch with a colleague in a different town who could deliver me at the teaching hospital. I decided against this option. I allowed myself to get sucked into the "convenience" of a repeat c-section. There was going to be a hassle with our insurance company since I was switching care so late into my pregnancy. Dr. appointments would be further away. I'd be scheduled, so childcare for my twins would be handled. My OB and I were much more proactive about preventing the allergic reactions I had during my first surgery. Plus, this baby would be full term, there would be no NICU stay. He would be with me from the beginning. In the end, all I wanted was to hold my baby, it didn't matter to me how he came into the world.

April 9, 2008, Boyd came into the world at 8lbs 12oz...Nine days before his due date. The breathing problems started right away. I was allowed to hold him briefly in the recovery room, but he was soon whisked away to the NICU. The tears rolled down my face, and the nurse kept saying, "it's okay, it's not like last time...he'll probably be with you later this afternoon."

I tried not to think of the past, and I tried to look forward to the fact that I would probably be nursing him at any time. Later that afternoon, the neonatologist came in to speak to me. He said that Boyd was doing well on oxygen, and he'd probably be fine by the next day. He didn't see any pneumonia, so there was no need for an IV. He talked to me about pumping my breastmilk and told me that I could go see the baby as soon as I was able. Then he said the words I didn't want to hear, "this is a common complication with c-section babies." There it was, out in the open...it was my fault. People have tried to tell me that it wasn't, but any mother in the world would blame herself, and I couldn't help but think, "if I'd done a VBAC, this wouldn't be happening." That evening, I managed to get in a wheelchair while holding my catheter bag in my lap. Gross and humiliating, but then, that's part of childbirth. I watched my son breathe with the aid of a nasal canula. He also had an IV placed in his arm, and when I questioned it, she told me one of the doctors started him on antibiotics "to be safe." I was furious, (since the antibiotics guarantee a 7 day stay).

The next day, the neonatologist talked to me about inserting a PICC line instead of an IV. Boyd was apparently blowing IV's out quicker than they could place them. I agreed. Several attempts were made that day and the next, and they were all failures. Worn out, he went into respiratory distress and was placed on a ventilator. So, 4 days later when we should have been going home, we were right back where we'd been 17 months earlier. I still hadn't held him except for those stolen minutes in the recovery room. We also got the news that since they weren't successful in placing the PICC line, he was being transferred to the Children's hospital an hour and 1/2 away for the placement of a central line...a surgery....

Boyd was loaded up in an ambulance, and we followed. I still had the staples in my belly, and I felt every bump on the freeway. I really wished I had something stronger than advil in my system. At Children's Hospital, we met with the doctor there who as it turns out was married to a doctor who my mom knows and works with on community projects in our city. She took new xrays of Boyd, and she looked at the old ones. She said, "this baby doesn't need IV access..he doesn't have pneumonia...we'll insert a feeding tube so he gets nourishment, and we'll work on taking him off the ventilator." 12 hours later, he was in an open air crib, getting every other feed through a bottle...the others were being administered through the feeding tube. The next day, I received a call that a room had opened up, and I had the option to "spend the night" with him. He was still hooked up to monitors and oxygen, but I could hold and snuggle my boy. All in all, he spent 7 days in the NICU.

My OB has assured me that I won't find anyone who will VBAC me after 2 c-sections..at least, not where we live now. I have contacted midwives about homebirths...all to no avail. So, here I sit, 2 weeks 6 days from my next surgery, and I have to admit, I have regrets. I will always have regrets. I can only hope that lightning doesn't strike 3 times....

Birthday

It is 30 days until my scheduled c-section for our last child. It's hard to believe that my 35th week was the week I delivered the girls. Here is their story...

I did infertility treatments for 2 years before I conceived my twins. I had a great pregnancy (other than the fact I got big and uncomfortable fast). I was placed on modified bedrest at 28 weeks because my blood pressure had been slightly elevated at one visit, so I had to leave my job early. It was never elevated again until two days before delivery. I went in for my 35 week appointment on a Tuesday, and my bp was sky high. I remember being shocked because I felt great. Honestly, the best I'd felt in weeks. Maybe I could just sense I was almost at the end. My OB sent me home on strict bedrest and told me to come back early in the morning on Thursday (as he was only coming in on Thursday to check on me. He was due to be out on vacation). When I went in on Thursday, I was 35 weeks 5 days. The doctor checked my urine and my blood pressure. Everything was back to normal. I have to admit, I was crushed. I know it sounds awful to hope for a premature delivery, but I was two days away from what is considered "full term" for twins, and I was carrying an 11 pound baby. As we were walking out of the office, I mentioned to my husband, "I'm getting a headache." The OB overheard that comment and said, "you know what, let's go ahead and get some blood work done." So I was sent off to the lab at the hospital for PIH panel and then went home for more bedrest.

At about 4:30 in the afternoon, I got a phone call from the OB's office. "Sarah, this is the midwife. Dr. M is on his way back to town, but he wanted me to call you. We've gotten your blood work back and you have really elevated liver enzymes in your blood. We're delivering you tomorrow morning. Be at the hospital at 5:00 am." I can tell you right now, my husband and I were doing the happy dance. In hindsight, I should have been more worried, but honestly, the only thought in my head was "no more heartburn!"

So at 5:00 am, I showed up for a c-section...not what I wanted, but I'd been prepared for it as my twins had been breech for the majority of the pregnancy. My parents and my MIL were also there. I was really nauseous, something I chalked up to nerves and an empty stomach, but we later discovered that I was in active labor. So, I guess the babies were coming whether we liked it or not! The nurse gave me reglan to drink, which caused even more vomiting. After a couple hours of monitoring, I was prepped for surgery. My c-section went pretty well. Grace was born first at 7:31 and Isabelle followed at 7:33. I wish I could say I remember everything that happened, but I'd had an allergic reaction to the medication they gave me, so I was in a Benadryl haze during the rest of the morning. I vaguely remember being taken to recovery and "overhearing" them say, "babies go to the room with mom." I was over the moon! No complications! At least...not at first. I was taken to my room, alone. My husband had come to talk to me and said that Isabelle was having a little trouble breathing so they were giving her oxygen. Grace wasn't holding her heat, but they thought she'd be in the room by the afternoon. I don't remember much until I started feeling my legs again...that's when I finally got to hold one of my twins..she'd been released from the NICU...I must have asked my husband 100 times where the other baby was because I didn't remember because of all the medication. When I told the nurse, "I can feel my leg" the on call ob prescribed demarol...I am allergic to painkillers, and on call didn't read my chart very carefully...I immediately broke into hives and began vomiting...I threw up the rest of the day...I was again doped up with benadryl and lost track of several hours...I struggled to feed Grace, and I spent most of my time looking at the picture the nurse brought me of Isabelle on the cpap machine. I thought if I could just stare at the picture long enough, she could somehow know I was thinking of her.

The following day I was able to get up and out of bed...having had no pain killers since the demoral incident, I was scared to move around, but I didn't have much pain. I wobbled into the NICU where I saw my Isabelle for the first time. I went alone. It was early in the morning, and my husband stayed with Grace in our room. I never told ANYONE this, but I thought a different baby was my baby because it looked more like Grace. The nurse explained to me that she was on a ventilator because she wasn't breathing on her own, she had an iv to give her antibiotics, she'd been given cerfactin to help her lungs absorb oxygen better...I wanted to die...Rita, the midwife, found me there sobbing...she held onto me until I was able to go back to my room for an exam...(even 3 years later I can't write this without crying)...Because I was still covered in welts and a rash, I was given more benadryl, which again, made me lose most of the next day. I vaguely remember going in to see the baby again, but being asked to leave because they were trying to get a line inserted into her belly button. I finally passed out in a haze of pain when the hospital social worker told my mom that I wasn't spending enough time with Isabelle in the NICU, and that I was being neglectful. Nevermind I had a baby in the room with me (who was having massive feeding issues of her own), and I was sick, and I was trying to pump and breastfeed...so, now I was neglecting a daughter I wasn't allowed to touch, hold, or even talk to because it made her upset (I was told later I'd been in the NICU 4 times, and each time I'd had to leave because of all the procedures they'd done...I'd been trying...)...The neonatologist found out what had been said, and I was assigned a different social worker...

Grace and I were discharged on Halloween. Isabelle was still on a ventilator. We then did the "baby shuffle." Drop Grace off with my mom, get to the hospital and sit with Isabelle. Go home, pick up Grace. Spend time with Grace. Drop Grace off with my mom. Go back spend time with Isabelle. I remember on the 9th day of Isabelle being on a ventilator, the thought, "she might not make it" came into my head. I have to admit that during this time I was SO angry with God. Nothing had come easily. It had been hard to get pregnant. The pregnancy had been hard. I'd had to have a c-section. The baby was sick. I know that I should've been thankful because it could've been so much worse, but at the time, I was having one heck of a pity party. As I sat there holding my baby's hand, the thought, "you need to sing praise songs" entered my head. I remember thinking, "but I don't feel like praising." And the thought continued, "but you don't worship because you feel like it, you worship because God is worthy." So, I sang. In the beginning, it was like that line of "Rain down" where it says, "my heart is dry, but still I'm singing." My heart was dry, but I sang anyway.

"I cry out, for your hand of mercy to heal me.
I am weak, and I need your love to free me.
Oh Lord, my rock, my strength in weakness
Come rescue me, Oh Lord.

You are my hope and your promise never fails me.
And my desire is to follow you forever.
For you are good, for you are good, for you are good to me"

I can't tell you how many times I sung that song. I know it was a lot. As we left the hospital, I sang the entire time home. The peace of the Lord surrounded me. The next morning, I called the NICU, and they had taken Isabelle off the ventilator. She was just getting a little oxygen through her nose. We were able to hold her and start feeding her. I don't know why I was granted the miracle when so many aren't, but I will claim it as a miracle. My daughter who was so sick was finally recovering. We still had our challenges, but she came home 19 days after her birth, and I can't imagine my life without her or her sister. They are truly my little blessings.

There's something wrong with you...

The year was 2005. Kevin and I had been trying to conceive for almost 2 years when we got the news that we were one of the many facing infertility. One in 8 couples experience it. In our case, I was the problem. I had PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome), and we were given a 3% chance of conceiving naturally on our own. I was devastated.

In 2005, we started treatment with clomid. It didn't work. In November, I underwent an IUI (intrauterine insemination). It "sorta" worked. I got a positive pregnancy test, but it never progressed into viability. For three months, my hcg levels were monitored, but 1 day before what would've been the end of our 1st trimester, I lost the "pregnancy." Eager to try again, we underwent a second IUI the following cycle. My numbers looked better, and I was brought in for an ultrasound. Our doctor shocked us by saying "Right away I see two sacs...wait a minute, I think there's...no wait, it's just two." That's right, the verdict was TWINS! My husband Kevin shot me a dirty look as if it was somehow my fault. I was shocked, even though I should have known better. He finally started to laugh. He laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.

So, there it is, we had our twin girls in October of 2006. We had a lot of ups and downs, but that, my friends, is another story.

Where to start?

For awhile now, I've wanted to start a blog. I wanted to share SO many things...our challenges financially, our struggle (and success) over infertility, daily life with four (almost five kids), and my quest to live greener and healthier. I've floated several ideas through my brain, of what to call the blog, how to focus it, and I finally came to the conclusion, I'm going to share it all. The ups, downs, successes and failures.

I'm sure this will be somewhat boring to anybody but me, but at least I have it all recorded...at least I did it.