Carver Stockham Huenefeld

    The last time I posted, I was 38-weeks pregnant, dilated to 3.5 cm and bouncing and walking and waiting patiently for any signs of labor. At my 39-week appointment I was measuring 4 cm. My doctor asked if I wanted her to strip my membranes and I gave her the green light. I've had my membranes stripped every single pregnancy and it's never done the trick for me, but I figured why not try it once more. After she stripped my membranes she casually mentioned she was on vacation for the next week. I wasn't panicked because she's never actually delivered any of my live births. I always go into labor at night or on the weekend or in the middle of a pandemic when only one doctor is delivering. So, you could say I've made the rounds with the doctors.. 

    Getting my membranes stripped barely even made me crampy and certainly didn't spark anything immediate. So we went about our normal lives. James even drug me to our friend's wedding over an hour away, which elevated my anxiety. We packed our hospital bag in the car and I tried to keep my feet off the dance floor as much as I could. I didn't want to cause a scene and have my water break during Cotton Eye Joe. We made it home that night with just a few minor contractions, but nothing serious. 

    The next day, July 10, I had a string of contractions. They kept up long enough and were close enough together, 4-8 minutes, that I thought it was go-time. I bounced for awhile and then busied myself around the house getting everything in order before things got too intense. James had the kids outside blowing off the rest of our fireworks from the 4th of July. I kept my mom in the loop, and eventually told her it was time. The contractions started picking up and I was having to stop what I was doing to focus on the contraction. They started getting closer, some even 2-3 minutes apart. I was starting to feel real lightning as the baby dropped more. When my mom grabbed the kids from our house, I was convinced we needed to follow her out the door and head for the hospital. I gathered a few last minute items and realized I was having a little longer break between contractions, so I waited and a had several more pretty quickly but they weren't incredibly intense. I decided to soak in the tub for a little bit before we left for the hospital, because I was having some back labor pain with the contractions and I wanted to be able to relax for a few minutes. As soon as I got in the tub, I didn't have a contraction for 15 minutes. I got out of the tub very perplexed, but I was still having contractions, so I decided to bounce and see if I could get the baby to drop. It seemed like the longer I bounced, the less "pressure" I felt and the more my contractions slowed down. So I got up to walk. I walked laps in the basement, just waiting for a contraction to tell say "Here we go!" But that is not what they were saying any longer. I finally gave in and went to bed for the night. I had a few contractions wake me up, but that was about all the excitement there was. 

    The next morning I woke up at 5:30 AM and decided I was not going down without a fight, so I took off walking down the road in the cool morning breeze and watched the sun rise as I marched along. A mile-and-a-half later I was walking back into the house and feeling not a bit of change. I did a few things around the house and then made my way to Stockham to pick up the kids. I felt defeated and sad that they thought they would get to meet Baby that day, but instead mom was picking them back up with nothing exciting to report. 

    A few days later I went in for my 40 week appointment. My doctor was still on vacation, so I saw another doctor. She checked me and I was dilated to 5 cm. I told her about my false labor a few days earlier and she instructed me to come in right away if I started having another string of contractions because I was likely going to go fast when it finally happened. My belly was measuring at 38 weeks, so I was convinced this baby was going to be my smallest.  She stripped my membranes again, but it did nothing. They scheduled me for an induction on July 18, 40 weeks 4 days, with the hope and assumption that I wouldn't need it. I left my appointment feeling thankful that there was an official end in sight. 

    The next few days drug on and on without much excitement. Our wedding anniversary is July 16 and I was really hoping baby wouldn't come on that day. I wanted there to be a day of its own to celebrate. James and I didn't make plans for our anniversary because it was so close to baby time. Last minute, we decided to take the kids to Fuji for supper in Grand Island to celebrate our anniversary and to have one last hoorah as a family of 5 before baby's arrival. We had a nice supper, enjoyed watching Macklin eat with chopsticks, and stopped for some ice cream on the way home. We blared Johnny Cash on the drive and watched the kids giggle at the funny lines in A Boy Named Sue. We tucked the kids in bed and I felt so ready to bring this baby into the family. 

    It was after 8 PM on the 16th, so I felt safe to try all the tricks to get some contractions started, feeling confident that we wouldn't have an anniversary baby at that point. Lo and behold decent contractions started around 10 PM. I contracted for awhile and thought I should lay down to get some rest. (Why do I always do this to myself? Why try to spark contractions right before bed? To be honest, I really didn't want to go to church pregnant the next day. Plus, my induction was 36 hours away and I wanted to avoid being induced if I could. That meant my time was running out to get things going.) I laid down in bed long enough for James to start snoring. I was having consistent contractions and my mind was buzzing. No sleep was going to happen for me. I got up to walk. I did laps around the living room for a couple hours. I started feeling like this was the real deal (again) when the back labor increased. I decided at that point that I should get the hide-a-bed ready for my parents to sleep on because I was likely going to be calling them in the middle of the night. I dug out the spare bedding and set up the bed in between contractions. At this point, I woke James up and we decided it was time to call my parents. It was a little after 2:00 AM. We repacked the last of the hospital bag and got everything loaded in the car. James decided he was ready for breakfast and made himself a two slices of peanut butter and honey toast and fried a couple of eggs. I was having contractions 4-5 minutes apart with a few coming closer together. It felt almost identical to the false labor a week prior. My parents arrived and we said quick goodbyes and made the drive to Grand Island at 2:45 AM. 

    I had a couple decent contractions in the car, but I wasn't panicked about a baby being delivered in my car like I had been with the last two babies. We were delivering at the new hospital this time around, so we found our way to the right parking lot and started to get checked in at 3:15 AM. I always forget how long this process takes. All the questions, pricks, procedures... They checked me and I was measuring at 7 cm. The nurse almost immediately said, "You need to decide soon if you want an epidural." I should have known this was coming, but I guess I figured I'd be in more "active" labor by the time I was at 7 cm. I honestly felt totally fine at this point. I was contracting, but I was still walking and talking through them and having plenty of breaks in between. How could I ask for an epidural when I'm barely laboring? I said I didn't want one, and hoped that I would still feel the same way in a few hours. Both veins in my hand blew when they tried to get the blood draw. (I was pretty sore and bruised from this later.) 

    I stayed up and bounced, walked, and rocked as much as I could to keep things rolling. Around 5:00 AM, I knew the contractions were staying, but figured I should try to get some rest before things got really intense. So I laid down in bed and got a little sleep in between contractions. They checked me again at 6:30 AM and I was at 8 cm. My cervix was more than ready for delivery, but the baby needed to drop more to get me dilated the rest of the way and break my water. I was still laboring, but just not what a typical 8 cm labor should be. I got back up and tried the ball again and did some steps for a little while. I was texting with my mom to keep her updated, talking to James and the nurses, and walking around fine. We spent a lot of time watching the monitor and chatting with the nurses.

8 cm dilated and still smiling

    My contractions definitely picked up after that. At 8:00 AM I was at 9 cm. I was starting to really feel uncomfortable and moved to the bed. I was still having some breaks in between and sent out a couple texts with updates. But I have never been this "under control" at 9 cm. It was so bizarre. We concluded that the only thing keeping me from pushing was that my water hadn't broke yet. We planned for the doctor to come break my water when she came in for rounds that morning. I had several intense contractions and took a little something for the pain. 

   

    Around 9:00 AM I felt another major shift and my contractions became brutal. I was still having some back labor, but these contractions brought it on in a whole new way. Baby was ready to make an appearance. It was around this time that I accepted gatorade that was offered to me. I'm not sure why I thought it sounded good at the time, but one sip and I about threw up. It wouldn't be labor and delivery for me unless I shout at James to find me a bag. I managed to keep it down, but definitely regretted trying to drink anything. 

    Shortly after that, I turned on my side and had James apply pressure to my back. I had the two most severe contractions of the labor and my water broke on its own at 9:16 AM. Two minutes later the doctor came in to break my water and the nurse told her it had just broke. The doctor announced that she wasn't going anywhere and I could sense the scurry around the room prepping for baby. As soon as my water had broke, I knew it was time to push immediately. I felt really uncomfortable laying down and shifted to my hands and knees to relieve some of the pressure on my back. I pushed for three contractions, my moans turned to yells, and baby's head was out. It was those words you long to hear, "One more push for the shoulders." I pushed and nothing. Internally I screamed, "NOT AGAIN!" The doctor quickly informed me that baby was stuck and that I needed to roll to my back so she could help it come out. I was in such a daze. I'm pretty sure James and the nurse had to flip me over because my body was frozen. I got to my back and felt more pressure as she tried to turn the baby. I pushed again and finally relief came. On July 17th, at 9:30 AM, a new life was born.

    I frantically looked down to see if we had a boy or girl. The doctor turned the baby over, but the umbilical cord was really short so she couldn't lift the baby up very high.  I strained to see between all the arms and legs in the way. I asked James what it was, and right as he said it, I saw for myself. "It's a boy."

    A few seconds later we got to hear the most beautiful sound in that first cry. They placed him on my stomach and my body went limp. I cried as I listened to him cry. I tried to keep my eyes open to soak in every bit of him, but my eyes kept closing as the tears ran. My heart kept whispering, "Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for this baby." James cut the umbilical cord and I was finally able to bring the baby up to my chest and kiss him for the first time. Carver Stockham Huenefeld had entered the world. 

  He shocked us all when we found out that he was 9 lbs, 8 oz and 22 inches long. He was my longest and biggest baby, despite me being convinced it was going to be my smallest baby.  He nursed right away without any trouble. He was pretty swollen and had a large hematoma on his head from birth. (It took several weeks to go down. You'll probably notice it in some pictures.) I had a minor tear, but didn't require stitches. We spent those first hours immersed in our new son. 

His feet were so big that they didn't fit on the ink pad for his footprints. His heels were cut off on his prints. And the funny thing was that his middle toe was the longest. 

Because of his weight, Carver had extra heel pricks to check his blood sugar. Everything checked out fine. He also had an x-ray of his shoulder because he was showing pain when the pediatrician moved it. Everything looked fine there too, he was just sore from positioning in the birth canal.  

He has the faintest birthmark on his left arm and it took me a week or two to see it.

Shortly after Carver was born, we sent a text to our parents telling them that the baby had arrived safely. (It had been several hours since we had last texted and they knew we were really close at that point, so I wanted to put them all at ease and let them know everyone was well.) We knew they would be in church when they received the message, but we didn't want to cause a frenzy, so we left out all the details. Turns out, that didn't stop a frenzy. I really wanted to tell the kids in person this time if they had a baby brother or sister and what the name was - we had to do it over FaceTime when Macklin was born and it was hard to not share that moment with them in person. So we asked our parents to come meet the baby with the kids. Apparently this was not a popular choice among everyone else at church. My friend, Jacqueline, even tried to rush my mom out of church, so the news could be shared soon. 

Shortly after lunch, the kids came into the hospital room and met their new sibling. Trevin instantly asked if it was a boy or a girl and James said, "You'll have to change his diaper to find out." Trevin shot back, "His?!"

Myla was hoping for a sister, but as soon as she saw this cute baby boy, she was smitten.

I found the name Carver on one my many deep dives on the internet. It was the only one that seemed to stick. James and I both kept coming back to it, and it didn't take long to settle on it. It felt like a strong name and one that fit our family well.

Each of our kids' middle names are named after one grandparent/side of the family. We knew that we wanted this baby to honor my mom in some way, but man alive, I had a hard time with any of the male family names. I didn't feel like anything flowed or fit with Carver. I was in a predicament. I've always wanted to use Stockham as a middle name, but James has shot it down in the past. (If I couldn't live there, I at least wanted to show my heart's dedication to my favorite place on earth.) When I struggled to come up with a middle name honoring my mom, I asked James if he thought it would be appropriate to use Stockham. To my surprise, he didn't shoot it down and he actually agreed that he would like to use it. My dad was raised in Stockham and his family has cherished memories there. My mom grew up just a few miles outside of Stockham. They've lived in Stockham for their entire marriage. It's where they brought their babies home. It's where they've worked and played and worshipped and gathered and celebrated and loved. It's where they've lived their lives. When I think of home - Mom and Dad - I think of Stockham. I wanted to honor that.

But Stockham isn't just a special place to them. It's the place I adore. It's the place that's shaped me. It's the place where I ran wild with my cousins and my best friend. It's the place where I've buried loved ones on the hill. It's the place where James proposed. It's the place where I became a wife. It's the place that continues to grow me as we spend every Sunday morning and Wednesday night with the dearest people in the dearest place. It's the place where my kids love to play. It's the place I care most deeply about. I wanted to honor that.

So Carver Stockham it was. 

Macklin was very unsure about the whole thing. He struggled a bit during the visit. To be fair, he was in desperate need for a good nap and this was all very overwhelming. We finally convinced him to hold the baby, and that was the calmest he was the entire time. 

And then there were six...

We were moved to our postpartum room for the night. He continued to nurse well and managed to sleep 5 hours straight that first night in the hospital. I was so thankful they let us all sleep. It's so great when you're having your fourth baby. The hospital staff just leaves you alone and you do your thing and they keep their check ins to a minimum. It felt quiet and we were able to soak in our new son without many interruptions.

I stepped on the scale before we left and I rolled my eyes when I had lost a total of 10 lbs since the night I was in labor. 9.5 lbs of that was Carver.  I realized that a lot of it was fluids they'd been giving me, but I couldn't help but laugh at my reality.

My sweet little chunky babe ready to go home.

The next morning we were eager to be discharged. There's always the last minute paperwork and scans to do, but we managed to get out of the hospital a little after 11:00 AM, just 26 hours after birth. 

The kids were so excited to see baby brother again and it was a precious reunion.

My recovery has been incredibly smooth. My pelvic pain from pregnancy left soon after delivery and it's been such a gift being able to move without pain again. Maybe that's why the recovery has felt so easy, because I feel way better now than I did the first 7 months of 2022. 

I have probably told 100 people this, but Carver is a dream baby. He's been our easiest by a long ways. We haven't even had extremely difficult babies, but he is something totally different. The first week he did a  4-5 hour stretch every night. Which meant we were only getting up once between 11:00 PM and 7:00 AM. I kept thinking that surely this phase would come to an end and he'd start sleeping like a real newborn, waking every 2-3 hours all night long. If I'm being totally honest, I think there's only been one hard night with him. It was within the first week or two and every time I got him asleep and ready to lay back down he would fill his diaper, it happened several times. It took about an hour and a half to get him down for good. That was it. That was the only "hard" night of newborn life. It's truly been a breeze.

Since then Carv has stretched his nights out even more and now he sleeps from 7:00 PM - 6:00 AM. I wake him up to feed him once around 10:00 PM before I go to sleep, but the kid just likes his sleep. He's transitioned nicely from a 2 hour schedule during the day to about 3 hours now. I intended to sleep train him more seriously than I had with Myla and Macklin, but he's been such a natural sleeper, so I haven't had to put effort into that. He's still in the basinet in our room for nights, but he can be switched any time. I just need to prepare myself emotionally for him graduating out of the newborn stage before I make the transition.

Carver loves a good swaddle. Oh man does he love it. He fights it for all of two seconds and then his entire body just relaxes. Before naps I swaddle him, turn his light off and the sound machine on, and he almost always lets out a big yawn before I even get him to his crib. Around a month old I decided it was time to start putting him in his crib at nap time. The first time I laid him in his crib awake, he just looked around for 15 minutes and fell asleep without a single peep. To this day, he will only fuss for a minute or two and then he's out. 

1 Week Old

He is the most content baby. It takes quite a bit to get him to cry. When he does cry, I know he really needs something. He did a lot of grunting and growling in the first month. Now it's turning into baby babble as he learns to "talk." 

His hematoma looked pretty awful for a few weeks. It was soft and looked so concerning, but we were told it was nothing to worry about. I would point it out to people right away so that they didn't panic when they discovered it on their own. His pediatrician told us that it would take several weeks, or even several months, for it to go away. Shortly after he turned one month it disappeared, almost overnight. 

The week before I had Carv we started getting Japanese beetles in our living room and figured out that they were sneaking down our chimney. James boarded up the top of the chimney to keep them out for the season. A day or two after we brought Carver home there was a wasp in our house. I figured it had just snuck in through an open door at some point... until I found another one the next morning... and then again that night... Wasp after wasp after wasp. And always in the living room where I was snuggled up with my baby. 14 wasps in the first 10 days of Carver's life. Thankfully, they seemed more and more lethargic with each day that had passed. We realized there must have been a wasp nest in our chimney and we boarded them in. The only way out was down and into our living room. But I didn't want to open the chimney back up because the Japanese beetles would start flooding back in, too. After the 14th wasp and what seemed to be a never-ending population coming into our house, I had enough. When James stopped home for lunch on that 90 degree day, we lit up the fireplace and killed whatever lone survivors were left in the wasp nest. It was stinkin' hot in the house, but I could finally live with my newborn in peace without the fear of him getting stung by a wasp. Wouldn't you know, we haven't had a single wasp since.

1 Month Old

Carver has been a nursing champ. He picked it up on day one and hasn't had a single problem since. When Carver was a little over a month old, I had a clog. I felt it come on and repositioned him during nursing and nursed him more frequently to try and get it out. I wasn't in pain, but just felt a little sore for one afternoon. I took a warm epsom salt bath after I put kids to bed. By later evening I started to not feel well, but just thought I was tired. When I got off the couch to go get ready for bed, I instantly had a fierce fever hit me. James was home and actually watched it happen. Halfway across the room I started shivering uncontrollably. I got into bed and knew exactly what was happening. My first ever case of mastitis. I nursed Carver as long as possible, layered on as many warm clothes that I could find, crawled under the covers, and shivered for hours. I probably should have taken my temperature, because it was the worst fever I've had in adulthood. But my fever broke in the early morning hours and I was able to get a couple hours of sleep. I was thankful that I didn't have to go in for meds and that I was able to kick it on my own fairly quickly. Not something I'd ever care to experience again - and my case was mild. Mothers are warriors, my goodness.

Carver's eyebrows always tell a story.

This big old boy is having no trouble putting on the pounds. He dropped down to just under 9 pounds when he was 1 week old, but by 3 weeks... he was already weighing 11 lbs. By 1 month he hit 12 lbs and at 2.5 months, he weighed 15 lbs. He's over 16 lbs now that he's 3 months old. The newborn clothes lasted us two weeks. He busted out of 0-3 month clothes shortly after. Several of the onesies I've got him in now are 9 month. He's got good cheeks and chub, but he doesn't have the rolls like Mack did. Carver is just so long and solid. Beefcake. He might be my only baby to have inherited the Kliewer height. We shall see.

Those first real baby smiles. I will never get over babies. Not ever. Impossible.

2 Months Old

Myla can't help but baby talk to Carver. She loves holding him on the couch and talking to him when he's laying on the floor. She has held him standing up a couple times, but has decided that he is too heavy. She is always eager to help keep an eye on him (AKA protect him from Macklin) when I leave the room. 

Macklin had a real struggle adjusting to life as a middle-child. Several weeks were really difficult with him. But he has finally found a groove and has shown lots of interest in Carver since then. He insists on holding Carver at the most inopportune times. He's battling me for who has kissed Carver the most times. He can be heard saying, "Baby so cute" and "Where Carver go?" at least once a day. When Carver spits up, Macklin yells, "He drooled up!!" While he is mostly sweet to him, he is never far from trying to jump over Carv, putting toys on his face, or attempting to pick him up. Thankfully we've survived without injury so far. God, protect the youngest children of the world.

Trevin has been thrilled to add another brother. He picks him up to hold him often and is always helpful when I'm needing extra hands. He's terrified of being spit up on and makes sure he keeps a safe distance when Carver is being burped. 

Carver is most commonly Carver or Carv, but he also gets called "Mack" almost just as frequently. The first two weeks, Macklin would only call him "Baby Stockham." So that has stuck. A friend of mine also refers to him as "Stockham" quite often. The big kids' favorite nickname for Carver is "Rock Em Stockham." (Like the Rock Em Sock Em game.) 

Baby loves bath time. Not going to lie, it's been so nice being able to bathe him in the kitchen sink.

At about 2.5 months he found his thumb, and it's been quite the love affair ever since. I've started swaddling his right hand up so he can get to his thumb. Everything he does is darling, but something about the thumb sucking is just extra precious.

Carv finally got his first bottle at 3 months. This is the latest that I've ever offered a bottle, but I just haven't needed to with him. He tags along to everything like an angel baby, so I haven't needed to leave him yet. But last week I went to my nephews' final football game and I knew Carver wouldn't handle the cold and wind. I offered him a bottle the day before to make sure he would take one when I left him with James. He handled it with no problem. I nursed him before I left for the game and he went to sleep at bedtime and slept until I got home, so James didn't even need to give him a bottle. Easiest first time away. Now I've ripped off the band-aid, and I don't probably need to ever leave him again. 

Carver's eyes have been dark dark since day one. I get lost in these deep brown eyes. 

3 Months Old

I had my friend, Cody, take some newborn pictures for us when Carver was one week old. This was the tiniest he ever was and it feels like a lifetime ago.

Cody Farrall Photography

Macklin was at his peak struggle time when we took newborn photos, so it was a little rough. And by a little rough, I mean absolutely very rough. It took every bit of bribery just to get him to sit near us. Cody had a few tricks up her sleeve which helped us get a few cute shots, without requiring much cooperation from him.

Notice Mack's pout lip in the photo above. But he gave one smile at least.

Ten months before I held Carver in my arms for the first time, I thought I had lost my fertility. I thought my dreams of carrying another child were gone. I mourned any hope of future children. I grieved thinking all my "lasts" had already happened. The last time I got a positive pregnancy test. The last time I felt a baby kick in my womb. The last time I prayed over my pregnant belly. The last time I gave birth. The last time I met my child. The last time I nursed. I thought the lasts had already passed without my awareness or permission. But God. He was so gracious to allow Carver to be included in our story. I may never fully understand the events that transpired a year ago, our miscarriage, our threat of a second ectopic pregnancy, and a shockingly miraculous pregnancy.. but what I do know is that we've been given the most precious gift in Carver. My heart is overwhelmed with love for his little life. 

Welcome to the farm, Baby Stockham.

Another brown-eyed babe, growing on the farm...