Welcome back, dear readers! It feels absolutely wonderful to reconnect with you all here on the blog. After a two-month hiatus, which felt like both an eternity and a blink as I prepared for and welcomed our precious fourth child, it’s only fitting that my first post back is entirely dedicated to HER! Yes, you heard that right – we welcomed a baby girl into our lively home, and we are still basking in the joyous shock of it all, completely head-over-heels in love with our new addition.
Our sweet baby girl has finally joined our vibrant household, a home previously dominated by the boisterous energy of three wild boys. The transition has been an exciting one, filled with an unexpected but thoroughly embraced influx of pink, delicate bows, and all things wonderfully feminine. We are wholeheartedly embracing every single moment, cherishing the delightful shift in dynamics. Bring on all the “girl stuff” – it’s undeniably adorable, and our hearts are absolutely smitten!
Without further delay, I am beyond thrilled to officially introduce you to the newest member of our family, Brooklynn Naomi Brown. For those who follow my journey on Instagram, her sweet face is likely already quite familiar – a testament to my utter obsession and constant sharing of her precious moments. She has truly captured our hearts, and I can’t wait to share more about her and our incredible journey.
Brooklynn made her grand arrival into the world on November 30th at precisely 4:47 pm. She tipped the scales at a robust 8 pounds, 8 ounces, proudly outshining her older brothers, all of whom were born in the 7-pound range. Her healthy weight was a wonderful reassurance and a sign of her strength from day one.
My official due date had been November 20th, meaning our little girl decided to make us wait an extra ten days for her much-anticipated debut! Those final weeks and days leading up to her birth felt incredibly long, each moment stretching as we anxiously yet patiently awaited her arrival. The suspense was amplified by our decision to keep the baby’s gender a surprise, so you can only imagine the palpable excitement and readiness we felt to finally meet our precious blessing.
This is actually the very first time I’ve committed one of our birth stories to writing – a decision I now wish I had made shortly after each of our boys was born. Childbirth is such a profoundly amazing and transformative experience, one that is uniquely different for every mother and every pregnancy. My own three distinct experiences certainly underscore this reality. While I may have included an abundance of detail in this particular post, I know I will cherish having Brooklynn’s complete birth story documented here, a beautiful narrative to revisit and reflect upon in the years to come. Please forgive any “too much information” moments in advance; my intention was to capture the entire, unvarnished truth. Childbirth, at least for me, is far from glamorous, as some of the candid pictures might suggest. Yet, it is undeniably beautiful, a miracle I feel incredibly blessed to have experienced four times.
To provide a little context for her birth journey: My first son, Baker, was born naturally and vaginally right on schedule at 40 weeks. Following that, I underwent a C-section for the birth of my twins at 38 weeks, a necessity due to one baby being breech and the other transverse. This history played a significant role in my hopes for Brooklynn’s arrival.
This time around, I was incredibly hopeful for a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After C-section). The recovery process and the overall experience from my twin C-section had been particularly challenging and difficult, a stark contrast to the smoother vaginal birth and recovery I had experienced with our firstborn. The prospect of a natural birth felt like a pathway to a better healing journey.
My doctor was wonderfully supportive of my VBAC aspirations, and so, that became our primary birth plan. As my due date approached, ultrasounds indicated that the baby was measuring quite large. This led to a few extra scans to closely monitor her growth, as my doctor expressed understandable concern about attempting a VBAC with a very large baby, which could pose additional risks.
When my due date of November 20th came and went without any signs of labor, we began to seriously discuss alternative delivery options. My doctor maintained a strict policy against using induction medications for VBACs, making spontaneous labor the most favorable pathway for a successful vaginal birth. The only other option presented was for my doctor to manually break my water in the hospital, hoping it would naturally induce labor. However, there was no guarantee, and this approach carried the risk of still resulting in a C-section if labor didn’t progress. She agreed to let me go up to ten days past my due date, provided both the baby remained healthy and her size didn’t become a prohibitive factor. Consequently, we scheduled an appointment for November 30th to have my water broken, all while holding onto the fervent hope that labor would commence naturally before then.
In the weeks leading up to my due date, I experienced intermittent bouts of strong contractions, occurring about once or twice a week. Each time, we would grow hopeful, only for them to inexplicably dissipate, leaving us waiting for days again. My mucus plug came out on the 19th of November, and I had been dilated to one centimeter and 50% effaced for what felt like an eternity. These early signs were encouraging but ultimately led to more waiting.
Then, on Thanksgiving night, specifically between November 26th and 27th, around midnight, I sat up in bed, and a sudden, significant gush of fluid occurred. As I stood up, another substantial gush followed, completely drenching the floor. Brandon and I were convinced my water had broken. We immediately called the doctor on call – my regular doctor was on vacation – and he advised us to come in. Curiously, no contractions had started at this point. Upon arrival at triage, the nurse performed a test to detect amniotic fluid, and to our utter astonishment, it came back negative. They essentially told me I had simply peed myself and sent us home. What?! We were absolutely shocked and bewildered! There was no way I had voided that much (it required numerous towels to clean up), it neither smelled nor looked like urine, and I had just used the restroom before getting into bed. But the test results were definitive, and I wasn’t having contractions, so, feeling frustrated and confused, we reluctantly headed back home. It was a bizarre and somewhat humiliating experience.
With no further signs of labor surfacing over the next few days, we mentally geared up for our scheduled hospital visit on Monday morning, the 30th, to have my water artificially broken. The day before, determined to encourage labor, we made a concerted effort to walk extensively at the mall, including several rounds of stair climbing. We also revisited a few other naturally recommended methods for inducing labor (which we had been trying unsuccessfully for weeks, but decided to give them one last earnest shot). You can easily find these suggestions with a quick Google search, so I won’t delve into the specifics here. Let’s just say we explored all avenues with hopeful persistence.
Well, something certainly worked because, precisely at midnight on November 30th, I began experiencing regular contractions. They were consistently 3-4 minutes apart and steadily increased in strength and intensity as time progressed. I nudged Brandon, encouraging him to get some sleep while I focused on relaxing and meticulously tracking the contractions. By approximately 3 am, the contractions had become quite intense, prompting me to take a shower as we were already scheduled to be at the hospital by 6 am. By 4 am, the intensity had escalated to a point where I could barely speak through each contraction. We promptly called the doctor, who advised us to come in immediately. We made our way to the hospital and were quickly settled into a labor and delivery room, the real journey finally beginning.
Upon arrival, my contractions remained consistently about three minutes apart, slowly but surely intensifying. The nurses checked my progress, confirming I was 3 centimeters dilated. I continued to labor, focusing on breathing and coping with each wave. At 7:30 am, my doctor arrived and, seeing that I was already in active labor, suggested we proceed with breaking my water to help accelerate the process. And then came the truly astonishing revelation! When she prepared to break it, there was nothing to break – my water had, in fact, already ruptured. She looked at the nurses in the room, asking at what point my water had broken, and they confirmed it hadn’t happened since I’d been admitted. This meant that my water really had broken on Thanksgiving night, and I had been carrying on with daily life for over three days with ruptured membranes! Oh, the shock and disbelief! Looking back, a wave of profound gratitude washed over us. If they had kept me in the hospital that Thanksgiving night, I would have undoubtedly ended up with a C-section, as I had no contractions for three days following the initial rupture. We were incredibly thankful that our baby remained healthy throughout that period and immensely relieved to confirm that all that fluid on the floor that night was indeed amniotic fluid, not just a humiliating accident. The mystery was finally solved, albeit in a surprising way.
So, with the mystery of my water breaking finally solved, I simply continued to labor naturally. With our firstborn, Baker, Brandon and I had diligently attended Bradley Method of Natural Childbirth classes. We firmly believed those classes had exceptionally prepared us for a successful, unmedicated delivery. Although we hadn’t repeated the training or even reviewed the material before this delivery, the principles and techniques surprisingly resurfaced, guiding me through the process. I was incredibly fortunate to labor and ultimately deliver Brooklynn without any medical interventions, just as I had hoped for my VBAC.
This labor was undeniably intense, particularly during the transition stage, where the contractions reached a peak of overwhelming power. I honestly couldn’t have endured it without Brandon’s unwavering support right by my side. He was my rock, encouraging me through every single step, always ready to assist in any way he could. I must have asked him to place a blanket on me, only to immediately request its removal, about a million times in those moments of fluctuating comfort. God bless his patience and enduring presence throughout it all!
Given that my water had been broken for several days and I was also ten days past my due date, my doctor wisely decided to have a NICU team on standby for the baby’s arrival, just as a precautionary measure. As I neared the final stage, I distinctly heard the nurse inform my doctor that the NICU team was ready and would be in the room within one to two minutes once she felt I was on the verge of delivery. This small detail, while practical, also served as an exciting indicator that our baby was very, very close.
I remained dilated at nine centimeters for what felt like an eternity, but my body kept sending undeniable urges to push. Finally, my doctor gave me the go-ahead to begin pushing, gently massaging my cervix to aid in the final stages. It was such an incredibly motivating moment, with everyone in the room cheering me on, affirming how close I was to finally holding my baby. With each powerful push, I found myself repeatedly screaming, “Come on, baby! Come on, baby!” It was an primal, exhilarating, and deeply personal expression of my desire to meet her.
After just about two intense pushes, my doctor signaled for the NICU team to enter the room. A wave of pure excitement surged through me, as I knew this meant we were mere moments away from meeting our sweet baby. This realization provided an incredible surge of energy and renewed motivation, propelling me to push with every ounce of strength I had left. The finish line was in sight, and I channeled every emotion into that final effort.
It took approximately five more incredibly intense pushes, and then, our baby girl finally made her grand entrance into the world. We had specifically asked the doctor not to announce the gender, preferring to discover it ourselves once the baby was placed on my chest. As soon as she emerged, they asked Brandon to cut the umbilical cord, giving him a quick, privileged sneak peek before she was gently passed to me. I immediately pulled the baby close to my face, overwhelmed with emotion, whispering, “We love you so much,” and showering her tiny cheeks with kisses. The relief of having a big, healthy baby in my arms and knowing that the arduous labor was finally over was immense. It was then, in a beautiful, delayed realization, that I remembered I still didn’t know the gender. I looked up at Brandon, whose knowing nod directed my gaze “down there.” And low and behold, no penis! Utter shock! Through tears of joy, I softly said, “Hello, Brooklynn! We love you so, so much!” It was a magical, unforgettable reveal, perfectly private and profoundly emotional.
After cherishing those initial, precious moments of holding and loving on her, I began nursing Brooklynn – she latched on like a true champion, a moment of peaceful connection amidst the post-delivery whirlwind. During this time, I also birthed the placenta, which was accompanied by several blood clots (a slightly graphic detail, but part of the full story!). I experienced a significant amount of blood loss, which became evident shortly after delivery when I attempted to use the restroom and almost passed out. The doctor and nurses quickly grew concerned and began discussing the possibility of a blood transfusion. Fortunately, once I was back in bed and given some juice, crackers, and later that night, a much-needed big burger, I started to feel significantly better, avoiding the need for further medical intervention.
Once my condition had stabilized and I was feeling more like myself, the most anticipated moment arrived: it was time to bring the boys in to meet their brand-new sister. This was a moment we had all dreamed about for months.
It was, without a doubt, one of the sweetest and most heartwarming moments I have ever witnessed. Their faces lit up with pure joy and excitement to see us and, more importantly, to finally meet the baby we had been talking about and preparing for over so many months. Each of them thoughtfully brought her a little lovie, a gesture that melted my heart. I think there was a charming mix of surprise and delight when they finally saw and heard that they had a sister, not another brother. Their reactions were priceless.
Following the boys’ introductions, we welcomed the rest of our eager family members to meet Brooklynn. These were truly special moments, particularly for our mothers and my sister, who hold a very dear connection to Brooklynn’s name. Both my sister and Brandon’s mom share ‘Lynn’ as their middle name, and my own mother’s middle name is Naomi. Thus, “Brooklynn Naomi” had been our chosen girl’s name through every single pregnancy. We’ve always adored it, and now that our sweet Brooklynn is finally here, we know unequivocally that it was the name she was always meant to have.
We are utterly smitten with our little blonde-haired, blue-eyed blessing – though the eye color is still a beautiful mystery, as both Brandon and I sported blonde hair when we were little. Her presence has completed our family in the most perfect way imaginable.
Oh, and it’s truly remarkable how much she resembles Baker when he was first born! I mean, they are practically identical. Those first few days, I found myself simply staring at her, repeatedly telling her how incredibly familiar her tiny face looked, a beautiful echo of our eldest son. It’s a sweet connection that binds them even now.
It’s safe to say she has already completely wrapped her Dada around her tiny finger – a beautiful, undeniable bond forged from the very first moment they met. His heart is utterly captivated by his little girl, and it’s a joy to witness.
For her big brothers, it was love at first sight, and they genuinely cannot get enough of her. They have been absolutely wonderful with Brooklynn, showcasing an unexpected level of helpfulness. From fetching diapers and gently putting her pacifier back in her mouth to holding her bottle when I’m assisting another child or trying to get everyone out the door in the mornings, their support has been invaluable. Baker affectionately calls her “Miss Priss,” Bryce, in his adorable toddler talk, refers to her as “Brookilee” (which charmingly sounds like “broccoli” when he says it), and Barrett still simply calls her “baby.” And it’s clear the affection is mutual; Brooklynn is utterly smitten with them, her face lighting up with pure delight whenever they are near her or engaging with her. Watching them play is, without a doubt, her favorite pastime.
And as for me, I can honestly say I haven’t stopped snuggling her since the moment she was born. Her warmth, her scent, her tiny presence – it’s a constant comfort and joy that I never want to let go of.
After a few nights of recovery and bonding in the hospital, we were finally ready to head home. Our first stop, however, was a quintessential “fourth child problem” moment: directly to the soccer field to catch Baker’s final practice! With that, we officially settled in as a family of six, embarking on this new, exciting chapter together.
Stay tuned for many more posts about our adventures in family life, alongside an abundance of delicious, tried-and-true recipes I have eagerly waiting in the wings. Life around here is certainly a whirlwind of beautiful chaos, but it is oh-so-wonderfully fulfilling, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
It truly does feel fantastic to be back here, sharing our journey with you. Thank you immensely for your continuous love, support, and encouragement. It means the world to me and my growing little crew, and we are so grateful for each of you. Until next time!
xoxo,
