This Blog is D.o.n.e.

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It's just easier this way.

Two Months.

One word to describe Elodie: relentless. When she gets crying, nothing will stop her except being held and walked around. Absolutely relentless. I don't think I could have sketched two more opposite babies, than Waverly and Elodie. I thought I was mentally prepared for our second baby to be different than our first, but now I realize there really isn't any preparation for that kind of thing, just expectation.

If I ever felt an abundance of confidence in the parenting department, I have, most certainly, been humbled by this new presence in our family.

It's really not been easy from the beginning. In the hospital, Elodie would have preferred to sleep 4 or more hours between feedings and, more often than not, I had to wake her up in the middle of the night to feed. At her 3 week checkup, she had gained only ounces above her birthweight and while I half expected it, having the same issue with Waverly, it still caught me by surprise. And I cried, thinking we'd have the same difficulties that we did with Waverly and breastfeeding would be, once again, unsuccessful. But we put her on a strict feeding schedule, supplemented a formula bottle once each night, and have since reached a gloriously happy breastfeeding medium.

Now our life is challenging in other ways. Have I mentioned that Elodie is relentless? Because this also came as a surprise to us since she was such a laid back newborn. Maybe she also misses the ease and comfort of "first worldliness" in South Africa. Just kidding. She doesn't care about that.

Seriously, though, she cries all. the. time. And just for good measure, she's strong as a baby ox. In the womb, I knew she would be a strong little baby as her legs and arms stretched into my ribs requiring more than just gentle coaxing to relieve my pain. My theory has been proven as true and in one of her fits of anger, she flails her arms, stretches her legs, and sends her head into a twirl and it becomes nearly impossible to keep a hold on her.

However, despite how difficult she can be, my heart overflows with love for her. It's amazing. I never feared that my heart would not love her like I love her sister, but until it actually happened, I didn't understand the possibility of my love multiplying. And her smiles are absolutely priceless. Probably more because they're so few and far between. Maybe she understands the theory of supply and demand...

Y'all she just cried for an hour straight. I timed it. Good thing she's so darn cute!

Sisters

I could never love this too much...

She's Here Which Means I'm No Longer Pregnant.

Elodie Chandler

November 4, 2013 at 2:04 pm

6 lbs 14 oz

20 2/3 in

The truth is, by the time I arrived in Johannesburg at 34 weeks, I was over being pregnant. 3 1/2 weeks later I was really over it. Uncomfortable, not sleeping, heartburn, aching in the lower half, hot, and awkward. When Elodie's time came, I was over the moon, not just because I was meeting my second, beautiful daughter, but because my pregnancy was o.v.e.r. 

I was absolutely convinced that Elodie would weight well over 8 pounds, especially since my doctor measured her at over 7 pounds at my 37 week appointment. Then, little Elodie was born; about a whole pound less than Waverly and a fraction of an inch longer.

Last photo as a family of three

The story's not that profound. I was told by my OB in the States, after Waverly was born, that I would not be able to vaginally deliver a baby over 6 pounds. I don't have those "birthin' hips" as my friend put it. So, when I arrived in South Africa, during my first appointment with my OB here, we scheduled a cesearan for November 4. I was scheduled for a 3 o' clock surgery, but ended up going in around 1:30 and Elodie was born at 2:04.

Admitted and waiting...

Except for a few minutes of high anxiety as they raised the sheet between my head and the rest of my body - the close proximity of the sheet, the smell of the sheet, and the lack of feeling in my lower half had my blood pressure on the rise - I actually enjoyed the whole experience. The anesthesiologist was of the joking sort, giving us a hard time about being from the States, except when he found out we are from Kentucky, at which time he expressed his love of bourbon to which I made sure he hadn't yet enjoyed his bourbon that day. Smoothest epidural set-up ever. During the surgery, we entertained conversations about family and the high cost of living in a particular South African province. We laughed when Chandler exclaimed, She has teeth! Which she doesn't and we were given the likelihood of children being born with teeth. It was nice to actually be present for the whole ordeal instead of hopped up on drugs and exhausted beyond all reason. I literally sobbed when I heard and saw my sweet girl when, with Waverly, I think I let out a weak, Yay. and fell straight asleep. 

I also had the glorious opportunity to hold my baby before she was wisked off to the nursery; an opportunity I was not granted with Waverly. Unfortunately, Chandler was not able to hold her at any time that day for Elodie was, as I said, wisked off to the nursery with respiratory issues. 

And the admitting nurse asked if I wanted to remove my finger nail polish... please, lady.

The whole evening kind of slid by after that. I remember being rolled down the hallway to my room, passing my big girl and crying a little more. 

Seeing Elodie for the first time

I remember a nurse bringing Elodie to my room and the doctor entering quickly on her heels telling me that Elodie couldn't stay because she desperately needed to be on oxygen. Then she was taken from me, by the confused nurse, and that was the last I saw of her for the rest of the day. I remember being told that Elodie would, more than likely, end up in the NICU, once a space opened up. I remember receiving updates from three different nurses at three different times and being so confused, texting Chandler to return quickly as he had taken Waverly, Donna, and Caroline back to the house. I needed him to be with Elodie and I needed him to be the clear head as the medicine was taking over and sending me into a deep sleep.

As it so happens, Elodie's condition was not uncommon in babies who are born via c-section without experiencing the contractions of labor first which help squeeze the fluid out of the baby. In these situations, the baby can be born with wet lungs which inhibit their ability to breathe well. So, Elodie was provided oxygen to help dry out her lungs and keep her breathing. She was admitted to the NICU at about 8:00 that night, when a spot opened up. I felt helpless and sad not being able to spend time with her. The next morning, I was able to visit with her and nurse her for the first time. Chandler was also able to hold her for the first time.

One happy daddy 

Wearing my "W" necklace for my bigger girl and cuddling my little girl.
Waverly asked every day, while touching my necklace, if I thought about her all day.

Elodie was released from the NICU at 10:00 am, after 14 hours on tubes having her breathing closely monitored. From that moment on, she stayed in my room until we were released on Thursday. But what made that day extra special was seeing my two girls together; my oldest oohing, aahing, and loving all over her baby sister.

Elodie gifted Waverly with the crochet embodiment of her imaginary friends: Eliza and Apple, the dragons.

Pleased as punch.

Ready to hold the baby

I'll admit, I expected a boy this time around. I just had that feeling. At my 37 week appointment, the ultrasound revealed without a doubt the presence of what makes a girl. I still wouldn't believe it until I held her in my arms. And the first time I held her, kissed her, told her I loved her, I was smitten and overjoyed to have another baby girl in our family. Chandler is severely outnumbered at this point, but I don't think he minds too much...

Best life ever.

First photo as a family of four

Iza ny anaranao "chips"?

"Iza ny anaranao?" in official Malagasy is, loosely,"What is your name?" Literally, it is "Who the your name?" But that's neither here or there. What's funny about this particular phrase is how Waverly chooses to use it.

She doesn't know much Malagasy except some basics that Chandler and I have taught her: greetings, please (and thank you and excuse me - all one word in official), and how to ask for someone's name. Oh, and "Avia!" and "Mivoaka!" Commands we use with the dog and Waverly, in turn, uses with the kids she plays with...  Otherwise, we recognize our first language within the family and hope that she will pick up Malagasy in her interactions with the nationals. 

Unfortunately, this is more difficult than we hoped and she hasn't learned anymore than what we've taught her; hence her incorrect, but hilarious, usage of the question, "Iza ny anaranao?" For example, when she wants our day guard to make her a jump rope out of palm leaves, she asks him, "Azafady, Jean Claude, Iza ny anaranao jump rope?" Or when she wants to help our housekeeper mop the floor, "Azafady, Iza ny anaranao help?" 

But it will come. The longer we are here, the better she'll learn to communicate with those around her. For now, the communication barrier doesn't seem to bother her too much, especially since kids have the uncanny ability to communicate without words and still have a great time. 

For me, though, it's tough. My heart hurts for her and makes me miss her friends back home. And it makes me more anxious for the baby to come, for her to have a little one to grow up with who will understand her and our culture and language. At the same time, I think back on the last year and a half and all that we have been through together as a team of three. Chandler and I both agree that we've had a great three and a half years with just our girl. I blame it on the hormones that my emotions and feelings are so conflicting.

So, as a last "hurrah" as the Snyder family of three, we are doing at least one big family thing each week leading up to the baby's birth.

Last week we spent the afternoon at the beach.

We relaxed...

Played a little football...

Built various things...

And acted like goofballs...

It goes without saying that we had a wonderful day together and made great memories. My hope is, when days get hard for Waverly, be it because of her baby brother or sister getting all of the attention or her want for friends, that she will look back on these days and know that there were special times just for her.

On the pregnancy front: I am now almost 32 weeks along. And, although well into the third trimester, I'd like to have something recorded about the second trimester. 

Much like my pregnancy with Waverly, the second trimester wasn't much of a honeymoon as it is considered to be on all of the pregnancy websites. Only this time around, the three months of this trimester were caught up in the flurry of moving and stress of settling in to a new town, new routine, and new problems to overcome. I first felt baby kicks at the end of the first trimester; however, baby really got going in the second. No illness, no major physical complaints, and no problems sleeping! By the second trimester with Waverly, I was sleeping with a pillow between my knees and one under my belly and had constant issues with my hip falling asleep. Now, thanks to our fabulous Tempurpedic, I've only just recently run into problems sleeping and that's mostly because I have to go to the bathroom every few hours. :/ 

It's been interesting being pregnant in Madagascar. I fully expected to be assaulted at every turn with the women and children touching my belly; however, that's not been the case and for that, I am so so thankful. It would be a detriment to my Christian witness having to manhandle nationals for invading my personal space. 

It also never hurt a girl to have maternity clothes. With my first pregnancy, I was wearing dark colors and winter appropriate clothing. This time around, even though it's been winter here in Madagascar, I've had no need of the cold weather clothes, but I've made due and haven't raised a complaint because, by golly, nothing feels better to a pregnant momma than maternity pants. 

Only 2 1/2 weeks until Waverly and I fly to Johannesburg and after the day I've had today, the day couldn't come quick enough!

Bowties or Bows?

Still nobody knows. Well, we have no conclusive evidence.

At our 18 week appointment, the doctor hesitantly stated that the baby is a girl. However, without seeing boy parts or anything that would clearly indicate the baby as a girl, I take the stance that we don't know for sure. I mean, the baby's legs were crossed and I've thought since the very beginning that the baby is a boy, just like with my first pregnancy, I had no doubt she was a girl.

So, I figured we'd just have another ultrasound once we arrived here in Ft Dauphin. We met with the doctor on Monday and she informed us of a couple of things: 1. She wouldn't recommend anymore ultrasounds, than the initial and the mid-pregnancy ultrasounds, and 2. The machines here are old and not very clear.

I've come around to having peace with not knowing until the baby is actually born. It's eating Chandler up, though. So, if we have another ultrasound in Johannesburg, maybe we'll check it out again... Maybe not.

1st Trimester

My first trimester, and then some, is complete. Before I say anything else, I'll say this: it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. Yeah, I was nauseous every day and exhausted beyond functioning every day, but it definitely could have been worse. 

I had my first prenatal appointment at 7 weeks along with an ultrasound. Then another prenatal appointment at 13 weeks with another ultrasound. I was ecstatic and relieved to see all of baby's essential parts; I.e., spine, legs, head, etc, but we did not get to see the gender. I am thankful for a great Brazilian doctor in the capital and another doctor in the States who has agreed to look over the notes and photos from each appointment, just so we can have peace of mind.

An unpleasant surprise for me was how quickly I began "showing". I was just 11 weeks and I was getting uncomfortable just having my pants buttoned. After not having seen our language tutor for a few days, her oh-so-kind greeting revolved around how I looked bigger, insinuating by patting her cheeks that I must be eating a lot. Not wanting to be equally rude, instead of responding with, "Pregnant! Duh!" I laughed it off and stewed about it later... Maybe even now... Just a little bit though...

So, here I am unable to wear any of my pants, with no maternity a clothes for at least another 3 weeks (when our crate is supposed to arrive from the States). I'm resigned to wearing jersey maxi skirts and feeling Amish, and some days like a Duggar.

For those who are wondering, we will deliver the baby in Johannesburg, South Africa. Waverly and I will head that way at the beginning of October. Until then, we will receive prenatal care here in country and are fortunate enough to have a South African doctor in Ft Dauphin who does mother/baby care. 

Waverly is warming up to the idea of a new baby. She continues to vehemently deny any possibility of a brother and most of the time, insists that the baby is hers. But we have to start somewhere, right? 

Speaking of Waverly, I'm sure this will come back to haunt me one day, until the day that she understands motherhood herself, but I'm actually more excited about this baby than I was with Waverly. Am I the only bad mom that feels that way? I mean, with Waverly I was excited, but I was totally clueless and anxious. This time, I at least have a general idea of what to expect during pregnancy, delivery, and when caring for a newborn. Of course, I'm not so naive to think that I've got it all figured out because I am fully expecting this next child to be diametrically opposed to Waverly: terrible sleeper, high maintenance, and with no sense of humor whatsoever. I figure that way, I can be pleasantly surprised if I'm wrong and mentally prepared if my theory proves correct. I'll let you know.

                                       

                                          15 weeks

Exactly the Reaction We Expected.

It's true: we're pregnant! And we're way excited; Waverly, on the other hand, couldn't really care less and that's quite okay with me. What else would we have expected? Tonight she insisted that her baby was on our crate. Clueless. But we smile and nod and mutter amongst ourselves that her world will soon be rocked.

I believe I'm only about a month along and my pragmatic mind tells me we should wait until the golden 12-week-mark to tell the world about our little bundle of joy. By my desperate, dependent soul tells me that we need prayer every step of the way. We've trusted the Lord with a lot these past six months, we've been more desperate for Him now than in our entire lives, and being pregnant in a third-world country is no exception. 

What about healthcare? Well, we'll find out, won't we? But I am encouraged that I'm not the first ever missionary to carry or birth a baby in Africa. And I am thankful that we have travelled this journey once before so that I can have some peace about what to expect along the way. 

But as you think of us, please pray. Pray that we will have wisdom over the next nine months. Pray that it will be uneventful and maybe even fun. Pray for good health. And please, oh please, pray that Waverly will lighten up. 

3rd Birthday Eve

I fully expected to be at least mildly depressed around this particular birthday. Had you asked me a few of months ago, following my most depressing birthday to date, I would have lamented that there is no hope for future happiness, not even on birthdays. You see, I love birthdays: mine, Chandlers, yours, etc. I love the celebration, the dinner at a nice restaurant, and giving the perfect gift.

Mine was the first birthday we celebrated in Africa, away from family and all of the birthday traditions. I was sad and that's an understatement. I was even more sad thinking about how pitiful Waverly's next birthday celebration would be: Snyder, table for three, at Cafe Mom... Oh, and here's a pair of socks, kid. They were forgotten in the bottom of a suitcase when we moved here. They're just like new!

But I've been most pleasantly surprised with the unfolding of tomorrow's events which do include playtime and cake with local friends and a party with family, complete with invitations. We organized a Skype/FaceTime with each of our families and are looking very forward to having three tea parties and A LOT of strawberry cake, per Waverly's request. Just a little pre-planning and pre-purchasing on our part and we will have a celebration to remember.

So, I'm not sad tonight as we anticipate Waverly's big day. And I'm not sad that she is turning three. Maybe I should be since she's our first-born, but I am excited and... Surprised?
Really, though, I can't believe Chandler and I have kept a small one alive for three whole years, even while crossing an ocean. She's a resilient little being; stronger than I have been on some days. Her life was turned upside-down and, although she expresses her sadness at times, she reminds us, in her own wisdom, that we are where we belong.

She talks all of the time and most days we laugh, but some days we nearly lose our minds. She sleeps in a big girl bed, doesn't wear diapers ever, quotes movies like it's her job, loves to dance, loves to eat, and loves to practice her Malagasy, especially when it earns her a piece of candy. She can't sit still. She has a memory like a steel trap. She's a charmer like her daddy. She has a heart full of love and a big, beautiful smile. Quite often, we look at her and have a surreal moment with the realization that she is ours. The Lord has entrusted us with her and, somehow, we've made it three whole, wonderful years. Here's to many more!

The Swedish Lady's Farm

Believe it or not, there are quite a few different nationalities here in Madagascar: French, Swedish, Dutch, German, American (duh, we're here), Chinese, British, and probably more that I can't recall or do not know of. Anyway, there is a Swedish lady that attends the same church here in Anstirabe. Her name is Betty and she owns a plot of land where she makes milk and cheese, harbors a variety of farm animals, grows a variety of fruits, vegetables, and medicinal herbs, and houses small groups for retreats. She also happens to have a small basketball court, two swings, and a see-saw.

It was at this place this past weekend where we spent a few morning hours with our language tutor and her family.

Waiting patiently for her turn or plotting a "coup d'etat" to get her hands on that bike.

Huddling under a hole-ridden canopy to keep out of the rain.

She's cute but she's fiery.

That's trouble brewing right there.

Rogue cow.

Wave would prefer to play with Niriko's three older brothers. She's referred to them as her "best friends".