When I got pregnant, I said I didn't want to breastfeed. I wanted the baby to have breastmilk, but wasn't interested in whipping out the boob in public, or when company was over. I also wasn't interested in being the ONLY source of sustenance for this child. I had a very clear objective - I would pump and pump and pump and we would feed using a bottle, and that would be that.
After discussing this with our doula, she advised that it would be smarter to start off breastfeeding so that my supply would be established, and then we could move to pumping part-time/full-time once I was producing enough milk. I read up about this, and realized it was probably the smarter, less stressful route, and so this is what we did. It wasn't long before I was pumping and building a stash, and we were also able to feed her one bottle per day. This got her used to it, and also gave me a break in the evenings.
Starting out, breastfeeding wasn't easy. In fact it was pretty terrible. M had the hang of it right away, but my boobs paid for it. While her latch was...aggressive, it wasn't perfect, and this caused a lot of destruction and pain. It took several weeks to heal, and while my plight wasn't as bad as my friend Jenn 's , it wasn't easy, wasn't pleasant, and really wasn't fun.
We persevered because I knew that breastmilk really was best. I had some ups and downs with supply levels, but eventually we got on track. Right now I am breastfeeding once a day (in the morning) and pumping the rest. I love knowing exactly how much she is eating, and I also find she spits up less while eating from the bottle (which I know sounds odd, but there you have it).
I read a lot of blogs, and visit even more parenting forums, and am overwhelmed by how many people love breastfeeding their babies. They say there is nothing like it, that they want to do it as long as they can, that the feeling of bonding is incredible. But the truth is, I don't feel this way at all. I think I may actually hate breastfeeding. The only upside to it for me is that when I do it in the morning, I don't have to get out of bed to warm a bottle. Maybe this means I am the opposite of maternal and M will grow up sorely maladjusted and psychologically stunted, but I can't help how I feel. And I have given it more than a fair shake, I think. Even now that it has become easy to breastfeed, I don't like it any more than I did when tears sprang to my eyes each time she latched. In fact, I may like it even less since at that time I still held out hope that once it became easier I would enjoy it more.
So I'm pondering when to quit completely. I have quite a freezer stash, and I get a good amount each day when I pump. However as she grows, if she isn't breastfeeding, my body may not interpret the signs of when to produce more milk, so I foresee running out at some point, or not being able to keep up. Will I just continue supplementing with formula (currently I cut each feeding with a small amount of formula just to get her system used to it, and also to keep the pressure low for me to keep up)? Will I quit pumping altogether? I don't know. For now I'm playing it by ear. I feel guilty that I have had it relatively easy and even feel a bit selfish giving up since so many people who strive to succeed at this never get to do it. But I know it will stop sooner than later - I know that if I don't like doing it, then it's not doing anything for her emotionally, and may even be harming her in that respect. Bad Vibes Man.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Science
In our 10 weeks of child rearing and 38 weeks, 6 days of gestating said child, I have come to realize something.
This baby thing is basically one big science experiment.
From "Let's try to get pregnant" to "why won't she sleep" every outcome has been up in the air, and each has been dependent on so many variables it would make your head explode if you really thought about it for any length of time.
Keeping this kid alive in itself doesn't seem so hard, but trying to excel at it so that she will thrive, THAT is a challenge. I read and google and ask around, and come away with more advice than I would ever be able to execute. But how to decide how to proceed?
As you may or may not know, we are currently trying to get a handle on this whole sleep thing. We continue to be extremely lucky that M sleeps through the night for the most part. And for the most part I mean probably 1 night out of 14 is off, and the rest she goes to bed between 7 and 8, and gets up no earlier than 6 am to eat, then hits the sack again within about 45 minutes for another few hours. We love this schedule. This schedule is the bomb.
Her daytime schedule remains slightly less than ideal. Meaning we get short 30-40 minute naps throughout the day (maybe 4-5 each day) and maybe once a week she will take a great afternoon nap of between 3-4 hours. This is overkill, I would settle for 2 hours.
So, we've been working on sleep issues. We had been practicing attachment parenting, which worked for us for the first 8 weeks. When she cried, we went to her, soothed her, fed her, whatever she needed. But heading out of week 8 was when the short naps arrived on the scene, so we moved to a slightly more humane version of what people refer to as "Cry It Out". We don't let her cry indefinitely, but only 5-10 minutes. If she doesn't settle, we soothe her and put her back down. For most naps, she never cries more than 10 minutes. Maybe once a day she will go on and on, and as soon as I pick her up to soothe her she settles and then falls fast asleep when put back in her crib.
I was feeling torn about this strategy. The theory behind attachment parenting is that if you let your newborn child cry and cry until she stops, she is learning to soothe herself, but is also learning that you are not there to soothe her. This is the last thing that I want. I may not be the most competent parent, with the most sunshiny disposition and the most enthusiasm for kid-related things, but I want my kid to know that I've got her back, no matter what. However, I also don't want her to feel like we resent her in any way, and I think that is the danger of ALWAYS being there for her, especially since I don't have the most sunshiny disposition nor the most enthusiasm for kid-related things.
And you know what? For now this change is working for us. M is sleeping more during the day, albeit still in short stints, but overall there is more daysleep happening. And she is happier. Gone are the days of many many meltdowns. Now we have a real scream-it-out, nothing will satisfy her moment maybe every 2-3 days, and they are much shorter episodes than before. And when I put her in her swing or chair instead of wailing she is content for a while to watch her mobile or some other toy.
I'm also happier. I don't feel guilty to put her in her swing while I do some dishes or laundry because now she doesn't cry. Even though her naps are short, I know to expect them to be short so I really get all my shit done while she's in there instead of trying to nap myself or take a break. Break only happens if I can get all the other stuff done before she gets up, or when SB gets home to take over.
So which method is better? Neither and both. As I said, the first 8 weeks I was happy while AP worked for us. And when it didn't, when I finally let go and moved on, we became happy again with a modified Cry It Out method. And I'm sure in a few weeks we'll have to make more adjustments. And the experiment continues.....
This baby thing is basically one big science experiment.
From "Let's try to get pregnant" to "why won't she sleep" every outcome has been up in the air, and each has been dependent on so many variables it would make your head explode if you really thought about it for any length of time.
Keeping this kid alive in itself doesn't seem so hard, but trying to excel at it so that she will thrive, THAT is a challenge. I read and google and ask around, and come away with more advice than I would ever be able to execute. But how to decide how to proceed?
As you may or may not know, we are currently trying to get a handle on this whole sleep thing. We continue to be extremely lucky that M sleeps through the night for the most part. And for the most part I mean probably 1 night out of 14 is off, and the rest she goes to bed between 7 and 8, and gets up no earlier than 6 am to eat, then hits the sack again within about 45 minutes for another few hours. We love this schedule. This schedule is the bomb.
Her daytime schedule remains slightly less than ideal. Meaning we get short 30-40 minute naps throughout the day (maybe 4-5 each day) and maybe once a week she will take a great afternoon nap of between 3-4 hours. This is overkill, I would settle for 2 hours.
So, we've been working on sleep issues. We had been practicing attachment parenting, which worked for us for the first 8 weeks. When she cried, we went to her, soothed her, fed her, whatever she needed. But heading out of week 8 was when the short naps arrived on the scene, so we moved to a slightly more humane version of what people refer to as "Cry It Out". We don't let her cry indefinitely, but only 5-10 minutes. If she doesn't settle, we soothe her and put her back down. For most naps, she never cries more than 10 minutes. Maybe once a day she will go on and on, and as soon as I pick her up to soothe her she settles and then falls fast asleep when put back in her crib.
I was feeling torn about this strategy. The theory behind attachment parenting is that if you let your newborn child cry and cry until she stops, she is learning to soothe herself, but is also learning that you are not there to soothe her. This is the last thing that I want. I may not be the most competent parent, with the most sunshiny disposition and the most enthusiasm for kid-related things, but I want my kid to know that I've got her back, no matter what. However, I also don't want her to feel like we resent her in any way, and I think that is the danger of ALWAYS being there for her, especially since I don't have the most sunshiny disposition nor the most enthusiasm for kid-related things.
And you know what? For now this change is working for us. M is sleeping more during the day, albeit still in short stints, but overall there is more daysleep happening. And she is happier. Gone are the days of many many meltdowns. Now we have a real scream-it-out, nothing will satisfy her moment maybe every 2-3 days, and they are much shorter episodes than before. And when I put her in her swing or chair instead of wailing she is content for a while to watch her mobile or some other toy.
I'm also happier. I don't feel guilty to put her in her swing while I do some dishes or laundry because now she doesn't cry. Even though her naps are short, I know to expect them to be short so I really get all my shit done while she's in there instead of trying to nap myself or take a break. Break only happens if I can get all the other stuff done before she gets up, or when SB gets home to take over.
Friday, April 08, 2011
Happy Birthday to My Girl!!
Not that one - this one:
Tess turns one year old today! I can hardly believe it. When we met her, she was one of these little furballs: (this is her litter, but we aren't sure which one was Tess)
She couldn't even walk around yet at that point.
We waited and waited until we could finally bring her home. I could barely sleep the whole week before it was time to go get her. We spent quite a while with the females of the litter, and finally we came home with this:
I think she was 18 pounds when she came home, slightly smaller than Simon. It's insane to think that she now weighs 90 pounds!
I have always known I wanted a Bernese Mountain Dog. I love everything about the breed - their size, their soft fur, their sweet temperament, their laziness. But Tess has really exceeded any expectation I could have had. Her only flaw is her shyness, but I'll take that over hyperactivity any day. And besides, it's a good excuse not to stop and talk to everyone who admires her in the park or on the street. It would take us all day to get anywhere!
I am especially enjoying seeing Tess with Marlowe. She is sweet and curious, but not overbearing. She loves to smell her and lick her hands and feet. Her favorite thing is taking walks, although I'm not sure if it's because she feels like she is protecting Marlowe and the stroller, or if she feels like the stroller is protecting her. Either way, she loves it, and it makes me so happy that I can incorporate time with her and the baby, even though M is still so small.
Everyone told me that when the baby came, I would love my pets less. Either they don't know me, or it's a total myth, because not only do I not love them less, I think I may even love them more if that's possible. And Tess especially at this point. I was so worried she would feel left out or forgotten, so we make a really big effort to keep her included. But even on the days that are particularly tough and we only have time for the minimum, she is the one who keeps an even keel and only shows anxiousness when she's really gotta go.
So, after one year, one baby, one trip to the beach, her first snowfall, her first walk on Mont Royal, her work days at the clinic and about one million cuddles, Happy Birthday to my Tessy, Baby Girl #1.
She couldn't even walk around yet at that point.
We waited and waited until we could finally bring her home. I could barely sleep the whole week before it was time to go get her. We spent quite a while with the females of the litter, and finally we came home with this:
I have always known I wanted a Bernese Mountain Dog. I love everything about the breed - their size, their soft fur, their sweet temperament, their laziness. But Tess has really exceeded any expectation I could have had. Her only flaw is her shyness, but I'll take that over hyperactivity any day. And besides, it's a good excuse not to stop and talk to everyone who admires her in the park or on the street. It would take us all day to get anywhere!
I am especially enjoying seeing Tess with Marlowe. She is sweet and curious, but not overbearing. She loves to smell her and lick her hands and feet. Her favorite thing is taking walks, although I'm not sure if it's because she feels like she is protecting Marlowe and the stroller, or if she feels like the stroller is protecting her. Either way, she loves it, and it makes me so happy that I can incorporate time with her and the baby, even though M is still so small.
Everyone told me that when the baby came, I would love my pets less. Either they don't know me, or it's a total myth, because not only do I not love them less, I think I may even love them more if that's possible. And Tess especially at this point. I was so worried she would feel left out or forgotten, so we make a really big effort to keep her included. But even on the days that are particularly tough and we only have time for the minimum, she is the one who keeps an even keel and only shows anxiousness when she's really gotta go.
So, after one year, one baby, one trip to the beach, her first snowfall, her first walk on Mont Royal, her work days at the clinic and about one million cuddles, Happy Birthday to my Tessy, Baby Girl #1.
Sunday, April 03, 2011
Learning Curve
I cannot believe that Baby M is already 8 weeks old! I feel like these two months have really zoomed by, but that may be a bit of the Groundhog Day effect. Each day seems like it may never end, but when you add them all together, boom! There go two months!
In this time, we have tried to get to know our baby. I'm sure any parents out there know, in these first months this is a futile endeavor. First of all, newborns tend to have very little personality other than hungry, sleepy, and mean (aka cranky). Secondly, when they do start to develop what one may call "traits" or "habits", they change so quickly that there is no sense in getting used to them. They will just break your heart (goodbye, napping for hours in the swing. We miss you.)
I am currently trying to get this nap situation under control. In the beginning Baby M was often cranky, and we attributed every outburst to gas, cramps, etc. I stopped drinking coffee, orange juice, cut out dairy, all in an effort to appease her suffering. But I'm starting to think that we were getting the wrong message from her - I don't think we were making her sleep enough. So far we have been extremely lucky and M sleeps through the night. Yes, she has her exceptional, awful, wailing into the wee hours nights, but for the most part we get a solid 6-8 hours, and I feel so lucky for it. (actually I feel like she senses if she doesn't allow me a proper dose of reloading, I may drop her or put her in the dryer by mistake). But daytime was a whole other beast.
So I've been really making an effort. I am trying to create a nap routine to help her wind down and be able to know it's time for resting. We were doing a bedtime routine, why didn't we clue in that she would need this in the day too? And you know what? This week I have seen a huge difference. During her awake times she is a far happier baby then before, and her naps for the most part are lasting longer. I am learning her cues and trying to be prompt reacting to them, and I'm starting to learn her likes and dislikes. For example, she loves to be cozied up in a fleecy blanket, but it's also important she be swaddled tightly because she still hits herself in the face sometimes and scares herself awake.
I'm hoping this week will bring more progress, and more happy baby time. But I also know that she'll most likely switch up her preferences about 100 times before we get it, and that terrifies me.
In this time, we have tried to get to know our baby. I'm sure any parents out there know, in these first months this is a futile endeavor. First of all, newborns tend to have very little personality other than hungry, sleepy, and mean (aka cranky). Secondly, when they do start to develop what one may call "traits" or "habits", they change so quickly that there is no sense in getting used to them. They will just break your heart (goodbye, napping for hours in the swing. We miss you.)
I am currently trying to get this nap situation under control. In the beginning Baby M was often cranky, and we attributed every outburst to gas, cramps, etc. I stopped drinking coffee, orange juice, cut out dairy, all in an effort to appease her suffering. But I'm starting to think that we were getting the wrong message from her - I don't think we were making her sleep enough. So far we have been extremely lucky and M sleeps through the night. Yes, she has her exceptional, awful, wailing into the wee hours nights, but for the most part we get a solid 6-8 hours, and I feel so lucky for it. (actually I feel like she senses if she doesn't allow me a proper dose of reloading, I may drop her or put her in the dryer by mistake). But daytime was a whole other beast.
So I've been really making an effort. I am trying to create a nap routine to help her wind down and be able to know it's time for resting. We were doing a bedtime routine, why didn't we clue in that she would need this in the day too? And you know what? This week I have seen a huge difference. During her awake times she is a far happier baby then before, and her naps for the most part are lasting longer. I am learning her cues and trying to be prompt reacting to them, and I'm starting to learn her likes and dislikes. For example, she loves to be cozied up in a fleecy blanket, but it's also important she be swaddled tightly because she still hits herself in the face sometimes and scares herself awake.
I'm hoping this week will bring more progress, and more happy baby time. But I also know that she'll most likely switch up her preferences about 100 times before we get it, and that terrifies me.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Life goes on
Now that I have finally gotten through the epic saga that was our birth story (sorry it was so long!), what's going on with the rest of our life?
Well, I think that's why the birth story ended up so long because really, nothing else is going on. Marlowe poops, and pees, and eats, and screams, and even occasionally sleeps. As of last week we are able to take (short) walks, and we also met with the ladies from my yoga class and their babies for playgroup.
We are slowly adjusting to life with M. And by adjusting I mean grumbling reluctantly forward waiting for the good stuff. I mean, there is some good stuff, but really newborns are not very exciting or fun. In the last week or so she has actually become somewhat pleasant during some of her awake time, so that's nice, but she still refuses to play Scrabble with me.
I'm trying really hard to live in the moment and "enjoy this time, they're only little for so long" but I'm dying for her to smile. I have always been a sucker for feedback, and I find it difficult to be working so hard keeping her alive without any indication about whether I'm doing it correctly (except for the fact that she is, indeed, alive).
Right now, in spite of all the apparatuses (I super wanted that to say "appariti" but apparently that's incorrect) we have procured for her to sleep and play in, she really only wants to nap ON one of us. Night time is fabulous, she sleeps pretty great in her pack and play, but daytime is all cuddle time. And screaming time. And as awesome as it is to cuddle with her, I really have a lot of shit to do around here, Kid, ~ahem~ laundry ~ahem~ so please start sleeping elsewhere. K, thx, bye.
Well, I think that's why the birth story ended up so long because really, nothing else is going on. Marlowe poops, and pees, and eats, and screams, and even occasionally sleeps. As of last week we are able to take (short) walks, and we also met with the ladies from my yoga class and their babies for playgroup.
We are slowly adjusting to life with M. And by adjusting I mean grumbling reluctantly forward waiting for the good stuff. I mean, there is some good stuff, but really newborns are not very exciting or fun. In the last week or so she has actually become somewhat pleasant during some of her awake time, so that's nice, but she still refuses to play Scrabble with me.
I'm trying really hard to live in the moment and "enjoy this time, they're only little for so long" but I'm dying for her to smile. I have always been a sucker for feedback, and I find it difficult to be working so hard keeping her alive without any indication about whether I'm doing it correctly (except for the fact that she is, indeed, alive).
Right now, in spite of all the apparatuses (I super wanted that to say "appariti" but apparently that's incorrect) we have procured for her to sleep and play in, she really only wants to nap ON one of us. Night time is fabulous, she sleeps pretty great in her pack and play, but daytime is all cuddle time. And screaming time. And as awesome as it is to cuddle with her, I really have a lot of shit to do around here, Kid, ~ahem~ laundry ~ahem~ so please start sleeping elsewhere. K, thx, bye.
Friday, March 11, 2011
And then there were three
***the longest and last part of the story, also, the most graphic Sam****
As they set up for delivery, everyone kept reassuring me that it was almost over. At this point, contractions were looooooong and I was getting barely any break in between. I was feeling the need to push, but also didn't want to just let go and do it. I have no idea why, because obviously to get her out there was going to have to be some pushing involved, and I wanted her out as quickly as possible, but I just didn't want to commit to the pushing.
Instead, I preferred to writhe in pain and yell out whatever came to mind. A few examples are "Please kill me, please." "I can't do this!" (which met replies each time of "are you kidding? you ARE doing this!"). To SB "Why the hell did we ever think this was a good idea?" To the nurse who wanted to check my blood pressure and baby's heart rate in the middle of a pretty nasty contraction "are you fucking kidding me? You need to do this now?"
By 9am they were all set up and ready to get me pushing. Dr. Duh had been replaced by a really great female intern, Dr. L. Dr. K started things off by saying "Ok, we're ready to push now. If you push really well, you will have your baby in one hour." His sing-songy accent was mocking me now. I took this as a challenge to get her out in half that.
Nurse P was a rock star at this point. As she was helping me get into a comfy pushing position, she was already coaching. She began her preamble with "Now, to get this baby out we have to do this methodically" and after that Nice Nurse P turned into Drill Sergeant Nurse P and that's just what I needed. With SB on one side, my doula on the other (both being super encouraging), and Nurse P barking orders from the periphery, I felt like I had a dreamteam.
Pushing was actually a relief compared to the pain of transition. In transition I felt like my entire body was trying to curl around my uterus while my uterus was trying to explode out, while already on fire. The cliche about pushing is true, it does feel like taking a number 2 the size of a turkey, so the pain is more localized, and is a sharp burning. If all had been normal, I totally would have rocked pushing that baby out.
As it were, pushing was harder than it should have been. It seemed like she crowned really quickly, and then just sat there. It's normal that you will push a little, then baby will recede back in a tiny bit, sort of a two steps forward one step back kind of thing. But I would push, and she would head right back to where she was before the push. I started to get annoyed, and the doctors started to be concerned. After half an hour of pushing, I began to demand exact numbers like "how long will this take now?" "how many more pushes until I get her out?" and things like that. Obviously they couldn't tell me exact numbers, and that annoyed me more.
I'm not sure if the length of time she was crowning had anything to do with it, but I started to tear, and they decided to cut an episiotomy. I was pretty upset, but I knew that if Dr. K thought it was needed, AND my doula thought it was a good idea, then things were probably not looking good there. Which I wouldn't know anything about, because I was NOT stealing a peek. Really. They offered a mirror several times and seemed perplexed that I had no interest. I think Dr. K thought it would give me some incentive if I could see the progress, but nope, I wanted none of it. And at that point I think he was a little scared of me since I kept yelling things like "Motherfucker".
Nurse K checked the fetal monitor, and saw that the baby's heart rate was getting a bit sketchy. This terrified me, because after all my research (ie, watching episodes of A Baby Story) I knew that low heart rate meant signs baby was in distress, which the hospital tends to interpret as "Baby's dying, quick, to the OR!" And of everything I knew I didn't want, C-section was at the top of my list. So I got serious, and finally pushed her head out.
Within the split second that her head came out, Dr. K said "Okay, no more pushing. Stop pushing." He said this because he could see that the cord was wrapped around her neck (twice!), which is why she wouldn't come out. I would push and push, and the cord would draw her back in. Upon seeing this, he wanted to try to unwrap it before trying to push the rest of her out. But baby was not having any of that. She was just annoyed as me at that point, I think, because I swear I didn't push, but hell if that baby didn't kick herself the rest of the way out. She was born at 10:04 am, an hour and 4 minutes after I started pushing.
Dr. K officially cut the cord (because of the whole double wrap thing), then SB got to trim it back. He said it was cool. Then Dr. K said "Alright, now that the Cirque du Soleil show is over, we wait for the placenta."
They put her on my chest where she wriggled for a second, but because of the craziness of getting her out and her low heart rate they took her pretty quickly to check her out. I watched them rub her skin and suction her mouth and nose. It was the nurse and a specialist from pediatrics working with her, and that had me a little concerned. So while Dr. K and L were shooting me with stuff to clot my blood because they found I was bleeding too much, I just kept watching the baby. I could see her wriggling and squirming, but there was no crying. After what seemed like forever, they concluded that she was fine, that we had produced a baby who just didn't feel like crying. Magical! (and totally not true.)
The rest is just medical non-baby related stuff. Placentas and stitches and more swearing. I found that Dr. K was a bit rough with me, and when I said so to SB after the fact he said "well, you did call him a Motherfucker quite a few times." Which I totally didn't. I was just exclaiming it. In general. To no one in particular.
As they set up for delivery, everyone kept reassuring me that it was almost over. At this point, contractions were looooooong and I was getting barely any break in between. I was feeling the need to push, but also didn't want to just let go and do it. I have no idea why, because obviously to get her out there was going to have to be some pushing involved, and I wanted her out as quickly as possible, but I just didn't want to commit to the pushing.
Instead, I preferred to writhe in pain and yell out whatever came to mind. A few examples are "Please kill me, please." "I can't do this!" (which met replies each time of "are you kidding? you ARE doing this!"). To SB "Why the hell did we ever think this was a good idea?" To the nurse who wanted to check my blood pressure and baby's heart rate in the middle of a pretty nasty contraction "are you fucking kidding me? You need to do this now?"
By 9am they were all set up and ready to get me pushing. Dr. Duh had been replaced by a really great female intern, Dr. L. Dr. K started things off by saying "Ok, we're ready to push now. If you push really well, you will have your baby in one hour." His sing-songy accent was mocking me now. I took this as a challenge to get her out in half that.
Nurse P was a rock star at this point. As she was helping me get into a comfy pushing position, she was already coaching. She began her preamble with "Now, to get this baby out we have to do this methodically" and after that Nice Nurse P turned into Drill Sergeant Nurse P and that's just what I needed. With SB on one side, my doula on the other (both being super encouraging), and Nurse P barking orders from the periphery, I felt like I had a dreamteam.
Pushing was actually a relief compared to the pain of transition. In transition I felt like my entire body was trying to curl around my uterus while my uterus was trying to explode out, while already on fire. The cliche about pushing is true, it does feel like taking a number 2 the size of a turkey, so the pain is more localized, and is a sharp burning. If all had been normal, I totally would have rocked pushing that baby out.
As it were, pushing was harder than it should have been. It seemed like she crowned really quickly, and then just sat there. It's normal that you will push a little, then baby will recede back in a tiny bit, sort of a two steps forward one step back kind of thing. But I would push, and she would head right back to where she was before the push. I started to get annoyed, and the doctors started to be concerned. After half an hour of pushing, I began to demand exact numbers like "how long will this take now?" "how many more pushes until I get her out?" and things like that. Obviously they couldn't tell me exact numbers, and that annoyed me more.
I'm not sure if the length of time she was crowning had anything to do with it, but I started to tear, and they decided to cut an episiotomy. I was pretty upset, but I knew that if Dr. K thought it was needed, AND my doula thought it was a good idea, then things were probably not looking good there. Which I wouldn't know anything about, because I was NOT stealing a peek. Really. They offered a mirror several times and seemed perplexed that I had no interest. I think Dr. K thought it would give me some incentive if I could see the progress, but nope, I wanted none of it. And at that point I think he was a little scared of me since I kept yelling things like "Motherfucker".
Nurse K checked the fetal monitor, and saw that the baby's heart rate was getting a bit sketchy. This terrified me, because after all my research (ie, watching episodes of A Baby Story) I knew that low heart rate meant signs baby was in distress, which the hospital tends to interpret as "Baby's dying, quick, to the OR!" And of everything I knew I didn't want, C-section was at the top of my list. So I got serious, and finally pushed her head out.
Within the split second that her head came out, Dr. K said "Okay, no more pushing. Stop pushing." He said this because he could see that the cord was wrapped around her neck (twice!), which is why she wouldn't come out. I would push and push, and the cord would draw her back in. Upon seeing this, he wanted to try to unwrap it before trying to push the rest of her out. But baby was not having any of that. She was just annoyed as me at that point, I think, because I swear I didn't push, but hell if that baby didn't kick herself the rest of the way out. She was born at 10:04 am, an hour and 4 minutes after I started pushing.
Dr. K officially cut the cord (because of the whole double wrap thing), then SB got to trim it back. He said it was cool. Then Dr. K said "Alright, now that the Cirque du Soleil show is over, we wait for the placenta."
They put her on my chest where she wriggled for a second, but because of the craziness of getting her out and her low heart rate they took her pretty quickly to check her out. I watched them rub her skin and suction her mouth and nose. It was the nurse and a specialist from pediatrics working with her, and that had me a little concerned. So while Dr. K and L were shooting me with stuff to clot my blood because they found I was bleeding too much, I just kept watching the baby. I could see her wriggling and squirming, but there was no crying. After what seemed like forever, they concluded that she was fine, that we had produced a baby who just didn't feel like crying. Magical! (and totally not true.)
The rest is just medical non-baby related stuff. Placentas and stitches and more swearing. I found that Dr. K was a bit rough with me, and when I said so to SB after the fact he said "well, you did call him a Motherfucker quite a few times." Which I totally didn't. I was just exclaiming it. In general. To no one in particular.
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Transition
***warning, Sam, it's still the labor story***
Dr. Duh came back, along with the attending on duty. Luckily the attending, Dr. K, took control of the situation, because Dr. Duh still looked like he was half asleep. Dr. K was a very funny man - he pretended to be offended that I still had my undies on (I put them back on after my first check because of the gown/heat issues. I wasn't quite ready to walk around with my butt hanging out.) I liked him right away. After some discussion of what the problem was (I didn't want to stay in bed, but so long as my waters were intact, they didn't want me walking around) he suggested that we break the waters and make the whole point moot. We mulled it over, and decided it was the best plan. Note here that I did NOT enjoy the sensation of my water breaking. Ugh.
Once we were okay'd to move around, I got up and wandered a little, but quickly made my way back to the bed and hunched over it. This is where the contractions got suddenly a lot stronger and a lot closer, and this is where I suddenly started to check out. I suddenly didn't want to walk around at all. I just wanted to curl up in the fetal position and die, actually. I tried some water therapy in the shower, and while it helped I had no strength to stand and kneeling on the tile was uncomfortable. I tried to continue hunching, but again my legs felt weak. I don't think I ever got to the point to try squatting, for fear I wouldn't be able to get back up. So I collapsed in a ball on the bed while our doula rubbed my back and SB held my hands. Every once in a while I would roll over. I almost broke one of SB's fingers squeezing his hand. And while, yes, it's true that you do forget what the pain feels like exactly once it's all over, I will never, ever, ever forget screaming out for someone to please kill me. So that is some indication that I probably won't be too excited to go there again.
I really have no concept of time for this transition stage. I'm sure they broke my waters maybe around 4 or 5 am? I don't think it could have been before 4. And within half an hour, the pain went from 3 to maybe 100. Again, labor mind-eraser is in effect. At some point, Nurse #2 left (we hardly knew ya!) and Nurse P came on shift. Nurse P was amazing! She had had 3 natural births of her own, and seemed to totally know the right things to do and say. And she had a good sense of humor, which I appreciated. Probably around 6am, I heard Dr. K come in while I was in the middle of a contraction. As I screamed he said in his funny sing-songy accent "Sounds like we're making some progress in here". (some people would find his humor annoying, but I totally dug it, especially since his accent was so great) They checked and I was at 7cm and totally effaced. By 8am I was totally dilated, and they started setting up for delivery.
Dr. Duh came back, along with the attending on duty. Luckily the attending, Dr. K, took control of the situation, because Dr. Duh still looked like he was half asleep. Dr. K was a very funny man - he pretended to be offended that I still had my undies on (I put them back on after my first check because of the gown/heat issues. I wasn't quite ready to walk around with my butt hanging out.) I liked him right away. After some discussion of what the problem was (I didn't want to stay in bed, but so long as my waters were intact, they didn't want me walking around) he suggested that we break the waters and make the whole point moot. We mulled it over, and decided it was the best plan. Note here that I did NOT enjoy the sensation of my water breaking. Ugh.
Once we were okay'd to move around, I got up and wandered a little, but quickly made my way back to the bed and hunched over it. This is where the contractions got suddenly a lot stronger and a lot closer, and this is where I suddenly started to check out. I suddenly didn't want to walk around at all. I just wanted to curl up in the fetal position and die, actually. I tried some water therapy in the shower, and while it helped I had no strength to stand and kneeling on the tile was uncomfortable. I tried to continue hunching, but again my legs felt weak. I don't think I ever got to the point to try squatting, for fear I wouldn't be able to get back up. So I collapsed in a ball on the bed while our doula rubbed my back and SB held my hands. Every once in a while I would roll over. I almost broke one of SB's fingers squeezing his hand. And while, yes, it's true that you do forget what the pain feels like exactly once it's all over, I will never, ever, ever forget screaming out for someone to please kill me. So that is some indication that I probably won't be too excited to go there again.
I really have no concept of time for this transition stage. I'm sure they broke my waters maybe around 4 or 5 am? I don't think it could have been before 4. And within half an hour, the pain went from 3 to maybe 100. Again, labor mind-eraser is in effect. At some point, Nurse #2 left (we hardly knew ya!) and Nurse P came on shift. Nurse P was amazing! She had had 3 natural births of her own, and seemed to totally know the right things to do and say. And she had a good sense of humor, which I appreciated. Probably around 6am, I heard Dr. K come in while I was in the middle of a contraction. As I screamed he said in his funny sing-songy accent "Sounds like we're making some progress in here". (some people would find his humor annoying, but I totally dug it, especially since his accent was so great) They checked and I was at 7cm and totally effaced. By 8am I was totally dilated, and they started setting up for delivery.
Friday, February 25, 2011
It's on
***please note, the following posts are no-holds barred accounts of Marlowe's birth. If you are at all squeamish about that kind of thing, you may want to skip them. This means you, Stamatia.
When we arrived at the hospital, the ER was surprisingly quiet. The Obstetrics Check-In desk was closed, because it was the middle of the night on Saturday, and because SB and I had done our hospital tour such a long time ago (because we're keen like that) we couldn't remember what we were supposed to do then. We tapped on the regular Check-In desk's glass, and the gentleman who came waved us through to the elevators. Meanwhile, an ambulance crew was waiting to deposit a patient, and during this 2 minute interval they asked me approximately 8 times if I would like a wheelchair. Even though I told them no 8 times.
Once upstairs, we got all set up for the routine pre-admission fetal monitoring and check of progress. Our doula arrived, and SB went back down to park the car. (Because it was the middle of the night, he got a great spot!)
I became preoccupied by how hot the room was. I am hyper-sensitive to temperature in normal times, but my entire pregnancy I felt like a self-contained rotisserie. And my gown wouldn't snap. So we did the whole one gown the right way, one gown backwards trick so my ass wasn't hanging out everywhere, but this solution compounded the sauna-like state of the birth centre triage. We waited for what seemed like hours for the resident on duty to arrive, and when he did he looked like he had just rolled out of bed, into his hoodie, and walked from his dorm to the hospital. Which is totally possible, and maybe even probable. I don't remember his name, nor would I post it here, but let's call him Dr. Duh.
His check showed that I was 4 cm dilated, 80% effaced, but that baby was at -3 station, which means very high up there. Also, my membranes were still intact, so I guess I just had a slow leak all day long. I was a bit disappointed to hear how high up she was sitting, since I had assumed she was low and engaged given all the pelvic discomfort I'd been feeling. I was glad to hear how far I'd progressed, though, because if these pains were just practice pains, then grrrr. At this point Dr. Duh said "so, we'll get you admitted, and then you can get your epidural." When I said no, he was kind of like "what do you mean?" This did not bode well, but I just ignored him.
Once we were settled into our delivery room, our first nurse arrived. She seemed like a nice enough lady, and looking back, I feel like she was probably new. The first thing she wanted to do was get me hooked up on a fetal monitor. Since I had just spent five hours (actual time was probably 45 minutes, but it felt like five hours) laying on my back attached to a monitor, all I wanted to do was walk around the room a little. We asked why this was necessary since we had just been hooked up, and they had plenty of data for the moment. She then proceeded to explain that since the baby was so high up, and my waters weren't broken, I would have to remain in the bed on a monitor, since if my waters broke and I was walking around the cord could get washed out first and compressed.
Plausible? Maybe. However, I had been leaking fluid all day and walking around laboring at home, and if I'm willing to take the risk to have a better labor experience, then dude, don't argue with a woman squeezing out a baby. She then began her spiel about how I would also have to stay in bed so that the IV would be stable and safe, and oh, by the way, watch out, I need to put the bed rail up so you don't fall out of bed. (behind me I heard my doula whisper to me "when was the last time you fell out of bed?")
(Because I have a pretty major phobia of needles, and because I didn't intend on needing an IV for anything except an emergency circumstance, and because I know that if I needed one, it would be easy enough to install when it was necessary anyway, I was adamant about not being hooked up to an IV, nor a Hep Lock.)
She then asked us where our birthplan was if we wanted all these "special" instructions followed (don't get me started on how not wanting any interventions at all when laboring could be considered "special") - I had specifically asked my doctor about it at my appointment the Monday before and she said "it's totally not necessary, just tell the nurses what you are okay with and what you aren't, and they'll respect it. They are very supportive of whatever you choose." So I was not please with this nurse demanding to see one. Our doula quickly jotted one down, which I signed and gave to the nurse, who then said she still couldn't let me up to walk around without a monitor on.
I started to lose my shit about then, and thus began the argument that resulted in me yelling at the nurse "why are you still here arguing with me?" and "would you just go get the doctor already?" While my doula tried to politely say "I think we understand what you are saying, but she would just like the doctor to come check and see if maybe the baby has engaged?" Then the nurse fired us. FIRED US like it would hurt our feelings. I will never forget the tone of her voice when she said "Well, maybe I should just get you another nurse, then..." and I wish I could have seen her face (I was busy with my head buried in a pillow during a contraction) when we all three said "Yes, please, I think that would be a good idea."
Then she had her boss come back in with. I don't know why. She was back to trying to explain why I had to stay in the bed and why I would need an IV. At this point I turned off my ears. My head was about to explode off my body, and I felt I may leap off the bed and tackle that nurse. Eventually between SB and the doula they worked it out - the nurse left, we got a new one, and they sent for the doctor to check me.
When we arrived at the hospital, the ER was surprisingly quiet. The Obstetrics Check-In desk was closed, because it was the middle of the night on Saturday, and because SB and I had done our hospital tour such a long time ago (because we're keen like that) we couldn't remember what we were supposed to do then. We tapped on the regular Check-In desk's glass, and the gentleman who came waved us through to the elevators. Meanwhile, an ambulance crew was waiting to deposit a patient, and during this 2 minute interval they asked me approximately 8 times if I would like a wheelchair. Even though I told them no 8 times.
Once upstairs, we got all set up for the routine pre-admission fetal monitoring and check of progress. Our doula arrived, and SB went back down to park the car. (Because it was the middle of the night, he got a great spot!)
I became preoccupied by how hot the room was. I am hyper-sensitive to temperature in normal times, but my entire pregnancy I felt like a self-contained rotisserie. And my gown wouldn't snap. So we did the whole one gown the right way, one gown backwards trick so my ass wasn't hanging out everywhere, but this solution compounded the sauna-like state of the birth centre triage. We waited for what seemed like hours for the resident on duty to arrive, and when he did he looked like he had just rolled out of bed, into his hoodie, and walked from his dorm to the hospital. Which is totally possible, and maybe even probable. I don't remember his name, nor would I post it here, but let's call him Dr. Duh.
His check showed that I was 4 cm dilated, 80% effaced, but that baby was at -3 station, which means very high up there. Also, my membranes were still intact, so I guess I just had a slow leak all day long. I was a bit disappointed to hear how high up she was sitting, since I had assumed she was low and engaged given all the pelvic discomfort I'd been feeling. I was glad to hear how far I'd progressed, though, because if these pains were just practice pains, then grrrr. At this point Dr. Duh said "so, we'll get you admitted, and then you can get your epidural." When I said no, he was kind of like "what do you mean?" This did not bode well, but I just ignored him.
Once we were settled into our delivery room, our first nurse arrived. She seemed like a nice enough lady, and looking back, I feel like she was probably new. The first thing she wanted to do was get me hooked up on a fetal monitor. Since I had just spent five hours (actual time was probably 45 minutes, but it felt like five hours) laying on my back attached to a monitor, all I wanted to do was walk around the room a little. We asked why this was necessary since we had just been hooked up, and they had plenty of data for the moment. She then proceeded to explain that since the baby was so high up, and my waters weren't broken, I would have to remain in the bed on a monitor, since if my waters broke and I was walking around the cord could get washed out first and compressed.
Plausible? Maybe. However, I had been leaking fluid all day and walking around laboring at home, and if I'm willing to take the risk to have a better labor experience, then dude, don't argue with a woman squeezing out a baby. She then began her spiel about how I would also have to stay in bed so that the IV would be stable and safe, and oh, by the way, watch out, I need to put the bed rail up so you don't fall out of bed. (behind me I heard my doula whisper to me "when was the last time you fell out of bed?")
(Because I have a pretty major phobia of needles, and because I didn't intend on needing an IV for anything except an emergency circumstance, and because I know that if I needed one, it would be easy enough to install when it was necessary anyway, I was adamant about not being hooked up to an IV, nor a Hep Lock.)
She then asked us where our birthplan was if we wanted all these "special" instructions followed (don't get me started on how not wanting any interventions at all when laboring could be considered "special") - I had specifically asked my doctor about it at my appointment the Monday before and she said "it's totally not necessary, just tell the nurses what you are okay with and what you aren't, and they'll respect it. They are very supportive of whatever you choose." So I was not please with this nurse demanding to see one. Our doula quickly jotted one down, which I signed and gave to the nurse, who then said she still couldn't let me up to walk around without a monitor on.
I started to lose my shit about then, and thus began the argument that resulted in me yelling at the nurse "why are you still here arguing with me?" and "would you just go get the doctor already?" While my doula tried to politely say "I think we understand what you are saying, but she would just like the doctor to come check and see if maybe the baby has engaged?" Then the nurse fired us. FIRED US like it would hurt our feelings. I will never forget the tone of her voice when she said "Well, maybe I should just get you another nurse, then..." and I wish I could have seen her face (I was busy with my head buried in a pillow during a contraction) when we all three said "Yes, please, I think that would be a good idea."
Then she had her boss come back in with. I don't know why. She was back to trying to explain why I had to stay in the bed and why I would need an IV. At this point I turned off my ears. My head was about to explode off my body, and I felt I may leap off the bed and tackle that nurse. Eventually between SB and the doula they worked it out - the nurse left, we got a new one, and they sent for the doctor to check me.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Early Labor
***please note, the following posts are no-holds barred accounts of Marlowe's birth. If you are at all squeamish about that kind of thing, you may want to skip them. This means you, Stamatia.
On Saturday, February 5th, I woke up at around 7:30am to find I had developed a slow leak in the night. Dr. Google thought it was most likely my waters, and a quick phone call to my doula later that morning confirmed that was probably the case. I had spent pretty much the entire week walking around like a cowboy because I felt like I got kicked in the kooka, and was pretty sure I had passed my bloody show on Thursday. So I kind of had a feeling things were going to get started soon.
With the intuition that birth was probably imminent, SB and I realized that we had some serious last minute shit to get done. Armed with a list of baby supplies we headed out. My walking pace was considerably slower than normal, however I had feelings of only mild cramping throughout the morning. As we finished up our errands, these cramps became more pinchy, and by the time we got home I was describing them as "contractiony cramps" instead of just cramps. We finished packing the hospital bags. I included the toothbrushes.
Then I realized that I hadn't prepared any of the Houla Houla Hop T4s for our ex-employees. It was on my list of stuff to do and I just hadn't gotten to it yet. So, as the contractiony cramps got pinchier and pinchier, I was cursing and swearing trying to find all the information for eighty seven different forms and also trying to remember how I had done it last year. Finally finished those up around 4pm, however they are still here waiting to be mailed. Incidentally, this is also the point where I would say the contractiony cramps became contractions, and this is where we really start counting the hours when talking about how long my labor was.
We had pizza for dinner, and we watched The Prince of Persia (it was a terrible, terrible movie). I tried to rest a bit, as suggested by the doula, but had no luck with that. We started timing the contractions, you know, for fun, and found they came every 6-7 minutes. I think at that point we both kinda didn't want to believe that this was it. We went to bed to watch TV. We talked to the doula several times by phone. She has a policy that she doesn't want to come too early, in case it's false labor and also in case early labor is just very very long. It's a waste of time for her to be hanging out for nothing, and it's easier to be comfortable and rest when you are just yourselves at home. I think she thought that I may make it through the night laboring as I was, based on how I described the pains, and also by how relaxed I sounded on the phone.
But then, something happened, and the contractions not only sped up, but intensified. Breathing didn't work. Walking around definitely didn't work. Somewhere between Auction Kings and Idiot Abroad (thank you, Discovery, for providing entertaining TV for laboring women at 1-2am on a Saturday) we figured it was probably time to get to the hospital. Our doula, by phone, was a bit surprised, I think, by how I went from relaxed to not quite so relaxed - rather then come to our house first, we decided to just meet at the hospital.
And away we went, in a snowstorm (thank you for the peace of mind, Subaru) at almost 3am. The bars were closing up soon, so through the snowstorm we had to maneuver around many many crazy taxis (I've been in a 3am cab before - they drive like they're playing MarioKart) and many many drunk people wandering into the street. We decided our kid was a partygirl, arriving as the bars close, just in time for the afterparties.
On Saturday, February 5th, I woke up at around 7:30am to find I had developed a slow leak in the night. Dr. Google thought it was most likely my waters, and a quick phone call to my doula later that morning confirmed that was probably the case. I had spent pretty much the entire week walking around like a cowboy because I felt like I got kicked in the kooka, and was pretty sure I had passed my bloody show on Thursday. So I kind of had a feeling things were going to get started soon.
With the intuition that birth was probably imminent, SB and I realized that we had some serious last minute shit to get done. Armed with a list of baby supplies we headed out. My walking pace was considerably slower than normal, however I had feelings of only mild cramping throughout the morning. As we finished up our errands, these cramps became more pinchy, and by the time we got home I was describing them as "contractiony cramps" instead of just cramps. We finished packing the hospital bags. I included the toothbrushes.
Then I realized that I hadn't prepared any of the Houla Houla Hop T4s for our ex-employees. It was on my list of stuff to do and I just hadn't gotten to it yet. So, as the contractiony cramps got pinchier and pinchier, I was cursing and swearing trying to find all the information for eighty seven different forms and also trying to remember how I had done it last year. Finally finished those up around 4pm, however they are still here waiting to be mailed. Incidentally, this is also the point where I would say the contractiony cramps became contractions, and this is where we really start counting the hours when talking about how long my labor was.
We had pizza for dinner, and we watched The Prince of Persia (it was a terrible, terrible movie). I tried to rest a bit, as suggested by the doula, but had no luck with that. We started timing the contractions, you know, for fun, and found they came every 6-7 minutes. I think at that point we both kinda didn't want to believe that this was it. We went to bed to watch TV. We talked to the doula several times by phone. She has a policy that she doesn't want to come too early, in case it's false labor and also in case early labor is just very very long. It's a waste of time for her to be hanging out for nothing, and it's easier to be comfortable and rest when you are just yourselves at home. I think she thought that I may make it through the night laboring as I was, based on how I described the pains, and also by how relaxed I sounded on the phone.
But then, something happened, and the contractions not only sped up, but intensified. Breathing didn't work. Walking around definitely didn't work. Somewhere between Auction Kings and Idiot Abroad (thank you, Discovery, for providing entertaining TV for laboring women at 1-2am on a Saturday) we figured it was probably time to get to the hospital. Our doula, by phone, was a bit surprised, I think, by how I went from relaxed to not quite so relaxed - rather then come to our house first, we decided to just meet at the hospital.
And away we went, in a snowstorm (thank you for the peace of mind, Subaru) at almost 3am. The bars were closing up soon, so through the snowstorm we had to maneuver around many many crazy taxis (I've been in a 3am cab before - they drive like they're playing MarioKart) and many many drunk people wandering into the street. We decided our kid was a partygirl, arriving as the bars close, just in time for the afterparties.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
4 days, 11 hours
The baby came!
She was born on Sunday, February 6th, 2011 at 10:04am. Her name is Marlowe Fiona, and she was 6lbs 15oz and 19.5" long.
The last four days have been sort of a blur as we try to work out some strategies to organize this crazy new life we have. I have been thinking a lot about how I want to tell her birth story, but I'm not sure I'm ready to write it out yet. So for now, I leave you with this and a promise to be back soon.
She was born on Sunday, February 6th, 2011 at 10:04am. Her name is Marlowe Fiona, and she was 6lbs 15oz and 19.5" long.
The last four days have been sort of a blur as we try to work out some strategies to organize this crazy new life we have. I have been thinking a lot about how I want to tell her birth story, but I'm not sure I'm ready to write it out yet. So for now, I leave you with this and a promise to be back soon.
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
38 weeks, 2 days
I've been on maternity leave for two weeks now, and I have learned a few things in this time:
1. Tess doesn't actually like spending time with me, she was just using me. She knew that I was the one with the cool job where she had lots of doggie pals to hang out with so she was nice to me, ensuring I would bring her along. Now that we don't go to work, she spends her days ignoring me and sighing, and her evenings tormenting SB because she knows HE can still at least take her to the dogpark.
2. Daytime TV sucks. As I putter around the house doing various tasks, I realize how much I hate a lot of TV that airs during the day. Especially Barbara Walters. I love the View, but I despise Barbara Walters. I feel like she has completely irrelevant opinions and it seems like she is half senile based on the comments she makes on "Hot Topics" and also the way she interrupts everyone else on the show to make said comments. Is it sad that the fate of my days lately hinge on whether she is on that day or not? Sheesh.
3. Even with all the time in the world, I am still an exceptional procrastinator. I would even go so far as dubbing myself a Master Procrastinator. And I know for a fact it's not just laziness, because I am very selective about which tasks routinely get ignored. For example, I've kept up on laundry, my crafting is in turbo mode, but I still haven't packed my hospital bag. Even after the nurse at my appointment on Monday chastised me for not having it prepared.
1. Tess doesn't actually like spending time with me, she was just using me. She knew that I was the one with the cool job where she had lots of doggie pals to hang out with so she was nice to me, ensuring I would bring her along. Now that we don't go to work, she spends her days ignoring me and sighing, and her evenings tormenting SB because she knows HE can still at least take her to the dogpark.
2. Daytime TV sucks. As I putter around the house doing various tasks, I realize how much I hate a lot of TV that airs during the day. Especially Barbara Walters. I love the View, but I despise Barbara Walters. I feel like she has completely irrelevant opinions and it seems like she is half senile based on the comments she makes on "Hot Topics" and also the way she interrupts everyone else on the show to make said comments. Is it sad that the fate of my days lately hinge on whether she is on that day or not? Sheesh.
3. Even with all the time in the world, I am still an exceptional procrastinator. I would even go so far as dubbing myself a Master Procrastinator. And I know for a fact it's not just laziness, because I am very selective about which tasks routinely get ignored. For example, I've kept up on laundry, my crafting is in turbo mode, but I still haven't packed my hospital bag. Even after the nurse at my appointment on Monday chastised me for not having it prepared.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
37 weeks, 3 days
Once again, another boring report. Everything is great and normal.
I finished work last Wednesday, and I think this is depressing Tess. She finds me 100% boring since a) I can't take her to the park and b) I am not a dog. At least I'm forcing her to get to plenty of cuddle time in before the Insider comes.
I have been procrastinating getting my hospital bags packed. I have no idea why. My list has been made for weeks, I picked up a bunch of stuff that I needed, everything should be ready, but it seems like other things keep popping up that have to be done first.
In other random news, I decided to make a quilt for the Insider, at SB's urging. I have been knitting all kinds of little projects, but I think he was inspired by all the quilts I have that have been handed down through my family. Anyway, I ordered fabric to make it two weeks ago and it still hasn't arrived. UGH. Two weeks I have been waiting - I hate the US postal service.
Lastly, SB took some belly photos this weekend. Nothing fancy, mostly so The Insider will see what we looked like together. Anyway, this is my favorite, taken at 36 weeks 5 days:
I finished work last Wednesday, and I think this is depressing Tess. She finds me 100% boring since a) I can't take her to the park and b) I am not a dog. At least I'm forcing her to get to plenty of cuddle time in before the Insider comes.
I have been procrastinating getting my hospital bags packed. I have no idea why. My list has been made for weeks, I picked up a bunch of stuff that I needed, everything should be ready, but it seems like other things keep popping up that have to be done first.
In other random news, I decided to make a quilt for the Insider, at SB's urging. I have been knitting all kinds of little projects, but I think he was inspired by all the quilts I have that have been handed down through my family. Anyway, I ordered fabric to make it two weeks ago and it still hasn't arrived. UGH. Two weeks I have been waiting - I hate the US postal service.
Lastly, SB took some belly photos this weekend. Nothing fancy, mostly so The Insider will see what we looked like together. Anyway, this is my favorite, taken at 36 weeks 5 days:
Sunday, January 23, 2011
36 weeks, 6 days
Seeing as how our life is about to be given over to a tiny alien, I decided that this weekend I would plan a relaxing getaway weekend. However, obviously without the option of actually leaving the city just in case the alien decided to actually land, I had to be slightly creative.
So I booked a surprise two night stay at the Hotel Place D'Armes, the hotel where we got married. I picked him up from work on Friday at 5, after I had already checked in and deposited our luggage in the room (which I packed after he left in the morning). I took him to dinner at The Keg, then made him hide is eyes while I drove around the block and gave the valet at the hotel our keys. We spent the two nights ordering movies, ordering room service, reading, napping, walking around the Old Port, and just generally relaxing. Tess was in the more than capable hands of one of my co-workers for the weekend, so I was able to rest easy knowing that not only is she totally enamored by Liz and would be totally comfortable with her, but also that Liz has her own puppy at home and welcomed the play date/in-house energy burner.
The funniest thing was that at dinner on Friday night, before he knew my whole master plan for the weekend, SB said "I think that after this meal, if the rest of the weekend included nothing but lounging in pjs and not having to take Tess out, I would be in heaven." And that's exactly what it was.
***sidenote: I won't even get into the part about how my co-workers planned a surprise brunch/shower for today, Sunday, at 10:30, and SB had to covertly rearrange their plans to accommodate my surprise for him. The brunch ended up being so sweet and fantastic, and I am so, so sad I'm not joining them all at the work tomorrow. I will have to visit the clinic often throughout the year because I'm already missing it and those ladies!
So I booked a surprise two night stay at the Hotel Place D'Armes, the hotel where we got married. I picked him up from work on Friday at 5, after I had already checked in and deposited our luggage in the room (which I packed after he left in the morning). I took him to dinner at The Keg, then made him hide is eyes while I drove around the block and gave the valet at the hotel our keys. We spent the two nights ordering movies, ordering room service, reading, napping, walking around the Old Port, and just generally relaxing. Tess was in the more than capable hands of one of my co-workers for the weekend, so I was able to rest easy knowing that not only is she totally enamored by Liz and would be totally comfortable with her, but also that Liz has her own puppy at home and welcomed the play date/in-house energy burner.
The funniest thing was that at dinner on Friday night, before he knew my whole master plan for the weekend, SB said "I think that after this meal, if the rest of the weekend included nothing but lounging in pjs and not having to take Tess out, I would be in heaven." And that's exactly what it was.
***sidenote: I won't even get into the part about how my co-workers planned a surprise brunch/shower for today, Sunday, at 10:30, and SB had to covertly rearrange their plans to accommodate my surprise for him. The brunch ended up being so sweet and fantastic, and I am so, so sad I'm not joining them all at the work tomorrow. I will have to visit the clinic often throughout the year because I'm already missing it and those ladies!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
36 weeks, 1 day
I missed another week! With this kind of track record, I'm pretty sure I'm going to forget feeding The Insider at least once in the first week of her life.
Still doing relatively great, although yesterday I had my first day of feeling really, actually, honestly pregnant. My legs felt heavy. I had random achyness in my abdomen, back, pelvis, etc. I was tired. I was snappish. I didn't feel like walking to my car after work. SB made me go to bed at 9:30, and after some reading and heating pad I was asleep before 10:30. This morning I felt 200% better, so it seems that rest really IS the solution to most pregnancy discomfort.
Tomorrow is my last day of work. I'm pretty sad, because I love it there and love the people and will miss them tons. I had originally planned on staying on as long as possible, but I was worried about going into labor early and leaving the clinic in the lurch. However, after feeling so terrible yesterday, I'm actually a little glad to be done. I have some crafting plans to get to and lots of reading to do (my Kindle arrived and I think I'm in LOVE!) so I think these weeks will fly by.
Still no name for The Insider either. Her name will be Bobo
Still doing relatively great, although yesterday I had my first day of feeling really, actually, honestly pregnant. My legs felt heavy. I had random achyness in my abdomen, back, pelvis, etc. I was tired. I was snappish. I didn't feel like walking to my car after work. SB made me go to bed at 9:30, and after some reading and heating pad I was asleep before 10:30. This morning I felt 200% better, so it seems that rest really IS the solution to most pregnancy discomfort.
Tomorrow is my last day of work. I'm pretty sad, because I love it there and love the people and will miss them tons. I had originally planned on staying on as long as possible, but I was worried about going into labor early and leaving the clinic in the lurch. However, after feeling so terrible yesterday, I'm actually a little glad to be done. I have some crafting plans to get to and lots of reading to do (my Kindle arrived and I think I'm in LOVE!) so I think these weeks will fly by.
Still no name for The Insider either. Her name will be Bobo
Thursday, January 06, 2011
34 weeks, 3 days
Whoops, I missed a week! SB and I were both off last week and spent our time alternating between lazing around and finishing up some decorating projects. (mostly I did the lazing, and he did the projects).
Things are humming along. We still have zero progress on choosing a name. The Insider is still getting bigger and feels more and more like a cat trapped in my belly rather than a trout. We haven't had a doctor's appointment in quite a while (because of the holidays, the clinic wasn't open) but I've been healthy and things seem great so not worried. We go on Monday for a checkup.
I had a fall at work this week which was painful and hilarious, but not worrisome. Basically I missed a small half-step while backing up and fell backwards. My fall was broken by the corner of a door frame, which caught me on my shoulder blade and my butt, then I sort of slid to the floor. I thought it was pretty slap-stick style funny, but my co-workers didn't. Long story short, aside from bruising, everything is great. As if bruising is ever really that great when you're pregnant - as if my body isn't gargantuan enough and hauling it around isn't hard enough, but then add hauling it around trying to avoid aggravating painful bruises. But, it's been three days and it's slowly getting better.
I've started doing baby laundry today (bedding is first!) and am also compiling my list so I can pack a hospital bag. Obviously it's early, however 5 weeks seems like it's going to fly by and this would be one of those things I can see myself putting off. But it's kinda important. Considering the hospital doesn't supply any diapers. Could get messy if I forget the bag.
Things are humming along. We still have zero progress on choosing a name. The Insider is still getting bigger and feels more and more like a cat trapped in my belly rather than a trout. We haven't had a doctor's appointment in quite a while (because of the holidays, the clinic wasn't open) but I've been healthy and things seem great so not worried. We go on Monday for a checkup.
I had a fall at work this week which was painful and hilarious, but not worrisome. Basically I missed a small half-step while backing up and fell backwards. My fall was broken by the corner of a door frame, which caught me on my shoulder blade and my butt, then I sort of slid to the floor. I thought it was pretty slap-stick style funny, but my co-workers didn't. Long story short, aside from bruising, everything is great. As if bruising is ever really that great when you're pregnant - as if my body isn't gargantuan enough and hauling it around isn't hard enough, but then add hauling it around trying to avoid aggravating painful bruises. But, it's been three days and it's slowly getting better.
I've started doing baby laundry today (bedding is first!) and am also compiling my list so I can pack a hospital bag. Obviously it's early, however 5 weeks seems like it's going to fly by and this would be one of those things I can see myself putting off. But it's kinda important. Considering the hospital doesn't supply any diapers. Could get messy if I forget the bag.
Friday, December 24, 2010
32 weeks 4 days
Yay it's Christmas Eve! I'm making sweet and hot almonds, SB is out getting supplies for our dinners tonight and tomorrow, and the puppy and kitties are snoozing away. Oh, and I'm watching a Criminal Minds marathon. Holiday perfection!
Thought I would update on the nursery, which has been "done" for a few weeks now. I'm really pleased - it has come out exactly as I wanted. Not cutesy, not frilly, not overrun by commercial cartoon characters or ugly cartoon monkeys. It's fresh, clean, cozy, and will be easy enough to update into a toddler/kid room as The Insider grows up. Here are some photos of the progress:
The empty room, with butter color walls and no window treatments. I'm annoyed by the electrical panel in the corner, and trying to think of ideas to cover it. It's placed in a very awkward spot, that a canvas/painting would look weird filling the whole space.... a bit stumped.
This is a photo of all the crap that used to be jammed in the nursery, now jammed into the dining room. The room used to also contain a treadmill, a giant wardrobe and a giant corner desk, but those were sold/donated long before this stage. Thank goodness.
"Finished" - seating and storage area. Walls are now beige/tan. The giant box of picture frames will be gone (unfinished project #376 for other parts of the house) and the lamp has to go (cause it's ugly). Also, on the back of the door you can note my wedding gown, which I have yet to bring to be cleaned. (unfinished project #253). We may also get another block of 3x3 storage to stack on top of this one. The closet in this room will be used for regular storage, so The Insider needs as much space as possible for clothes and toys to be put away, otherwise her dad may put her to the street.
"Finished" the rest of the room: one option for the ugly electrical box is to pull the curtains over a bit on that side. But then I feel the room may look lopsided.... We will also have a changing pad on top of the dresser, and maybe a rug. The last big thing to do is to choose some wall art, but I have a long list of etsy prints that I want, so I can't see this being a problem.
Thought I would update on the nursery, which has been "done" for a few weeks now. I'm really pleased - it has come out exactly as I wanted. Not cutesy, not frilly, not overrun by commercial cartoon characters or ugly cartoon monkeys. It's fresh, clean, cozy, and will be easy enough to update into a toddler/kid room as The Insider grows up. Here are some photos of the progress:
The empty room, with butter color walls and no window treatments. I'm annoyed by the electrical panel in the corner, and trying to think of ideas to cover it. It's placed in a very awkward spot, that a canvas/painting would look weird filling the whole space.... a bit stumped.
This is a photo of all the crap that used to be jammed in the nursery, now jammed into the dining room. The room used to also contain a treadmill, a giant wardrobe and a giant corner desk, but those were sold/donated long before this stage. Thank goodness.
"Finished" - seating and storage area. Walls are now beige/tan. The giant box of picture frames will be gone (unfinished project #376 for other parts of the house) and the lamp has to go (cause it's ugly). Also, on the back of the door you can note my wedding gown, which I have yet to bring to be cleaned. (unfinished project #253). We may also get another block of 3x3 storage to stack on top of this one. The closet in this room will be used for regular storage, so The Insider needs as much space as possible for clothes and toys to be put away, otherwise her dad may put her to the street.
"Finished" the rest of the room: one option for the ugly electrical box is to pull the curtains over a bit on that side. But then I feel the room may look lopsided.... We will also have a changing pad on top of the dresser, and maybe a rug. The last big thing to do is to choose some wall art, but I have a long list of etsy prints that I want, so I can't see this being a problem.
Friday, December 17, 2010
31 weeks 4 days
So, the decision has been made, and I feel soooooooo much better. We've decided to stay put for the holiday. The final straw for me was thinking about what WOULD happen if we delivered while home. The Insider would be 8 weeks early, so chances are she would end up in the NICU for x amount of time while we would be scrambling around, living out of suitcases, worrying about the cats back here and our condo, and THEN once she was finally discharged we would be traveling back to Montreal with not just an infant, but a teeny tiny 3/4 baked infant.
So we're keeping our butts here. And I feel really good about it. I think SB is just happy that even though we are staying, Christmas is NOT dead this year, and we will be able to have a tree, and hot chocolate, and lots of food and holiday movies etc. I'm also envisioning lots of walking in the snow with Miss Beastly (Tess) and taking lots of photos of her frolicking about.
Our nursery is 98% done - just need wall hangings. I'll post photos soon. It's pretty sweet.
And that's all the baby news. She's still rockin' and rollin' in there. Actually, I'll go one day thinking "wow, she isn't really moving around much" and then the next day she'll be almost knocking me over from kicking me. She's already torturing me.
So we're keeping our butts here. And I feel really good about it. I think SB is just happy that even though we are staying, Christmas is NOT dead this year, and we will be able to have a tree, and hot chocolate, and lots of food and holiday movies etc. I'm also envisioning lots of walking in the snow with Miss Beastly (Tess) and taking lots of photos of her frolicking about.
Our nursery is 98% done - just need wall hangings. I'll post photos soon. It's pretty sweet.
And that's all the baby news. She's still rockin' and rollin' in there. Actually, I'll go one day thinking "wow, she isn't really moving around much" and then the next day she'll be almost knocking me over from kicking me. She's already torturing me.
Monday, December 06, 2010
30 weeks
Week 30 is bringing us into the middle of a slight conundrum. To travel or not to travel?
Both of our families are in New Brunswick. We haven't been home for the holidays for 4 years due to the old dog and cat business. We were both very much looking forward to a holiday at home.
Then we became pregnant people.
At first I was gung-ho. It's no problem. No worries. I'll only be 32-34 weeks during holiday time. It'll be fine. It'll be better than fine, it'll be great!
But the closer I get to holiday time, the less sure I am that it's such a great idea. Things that do not concern me: driving in a car for 10 hours. However, for some reason, everyone thinks that this is the part of the trip that worries me the most. I have no qualms about being in a car for 10 hours. In fact, I would probably love it being that I would nap all day if I could, and being in a car for 10 hours, what's a better way to pass the time then to nap?
Things that do concern me: Going into pre-term labor 10 hours away from home. I realize there are very few things that you can plan and rely on when it comes to labor and delivery, but if I gave birth 10 hours away from home, I think I would lose it. Not in the birthing centre we've visited and wrapped our heads around, not in the hospital 10 minutes from home, not with our chart handy, not with our doula, not with our little baby nest 10 minutes from the hospital to bring The Insider home to, not with our carseat, not with our baby clothing, not with our tub to labor in at home, not with our few weeks of settling in after filled with personal chaos, but in our house at our pace with our cats. I would lose. My. Shit. And right now the only solution I can think of that guarantees avoiding this situation is staying my ass right here at home.
Yes, in New Brunswick there is a great hospital where my mom knows most of the doctors, more of the nurses, they have a great NICU and comfy facilities. But, oh my hell, our doula, our house, our nest, our cats.... Plus a 10 hour drive back with an infant. After giving birth.
We have polled several councils. 1st being our doctor, who was only able to give a medical opinion, which was basically "sure, there's no reason you can't sit in a car for 10 hours." As stated, OBVS. This is not really the question.
2nd council consulted: My yoga class. 6 out of 6 polled there say they would never make the trip in a million years.
3rd council: A caucus of nurses at my mom's work training this week. I'm not sure how many were there, but they all seemed to think it was a bad idea too.
So, I'm at a loss. My heart and my doctor say we should go. But, my intuition, my sanity, and my councils say we should stay put. So, the jury is still out on this one.
Both of our families are in New Brunswick. We haven't been home for the holidays for 4 years due to the old dog and cat business. We were both very much looking forward to a holiday at home.
Then we became pregnant people.
At first I was gung-ho. It's no problem. No worries. I'll only be 32-34 weeks during holiday time. It'll be fine. It'll be better than fine, it'll be great!
But the closer I get to holiday time, the less sure I am that it's such a great idea. Things that do not concern me: driving in a car for 10 hours. However, for some reason, everyone thinks that this is the part of the trip that worries me the most. I have no qualms about being in a car for 10 hours. In fact, I would probably love it being that I would nap all day if I could, and being in a car for 10 hours, what's a better way to pass the time then to nap?
Things that do concern me: Going into pre-term labor 10 hours away from home. I realize there are very few things that you can plan and rely on when it comes to labor and delivery, but if I gave birth 10 hours away from home, I think I would lose it. Not in the birthing centre we've visited and wrapped our heads around, not in the hospital 10 minutes from home, not with our chart handy, not with our doula, not with our little baby nest 10 minutes from the hospital to bring The Insider home to, not with our carseat, not with our baby clothing, not with our tub to labor in at home, not with our few weeks of settling in after filled with personal chaos, but in our house at our pace with our cats. I would lose. My. Shit. And right now the only solution I can think of that guarantees avoiding this situation is staying my ass right here at home.
Yes, in New Brunswick there is a great hospital where my mom knows most of the doctors, more of the nurses, they have a great NICU and comfy facilities. But, oh my hell, our doula, our house, our nest, our cats.... Plus a 10 hour drive back with an infant. After giving birth.
We have polled several councils. 1st being our doctor, who was only able to give a medical opinion, which was basically "sure, there's no reason you can't sit in a car for 10 hours." As stated, OBVS. This is not really the question.
2nd council consulted: My yoga class. 6 out of 6 polled there say they would never make the trip in a million years.
3rd council: A caucus of nurses at my mom's work training this week. I'm not sure how many were there, but they all seemed to think it was a bad idea too.
So, I'm at a loss. My heart and my doctor say we should go. But, my intuition, my sanity, and my councils say we should stay put. So, the jury is still out on this one.
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
A post NOT related to the Insider
So, aside from all the baby building brouhaha, there is some more pretty big news around these parts. I submitted a story to the CBC/QWF Quebec Writing Competition way back in ....mmmm, maybe April or May? In August, I found out that out of a field of about 300 entries, I had made it into the top 30.
Last month I found out that I actually made it to the top 13, which means my story will be officially published in an anthology coming out next fall! My first publication! They told me a month ago, but I wasn't supposed to make any announcements or anything until after the gala that they held last week.
I can't really explain how happy and excited I am. When we sold the business our intention was that I would work part time for a year, and see how far I could go in this writing thing. I got out this submission, and one or two others before we found out I was pregnant, and then writing sort of got put on the backburner again while I wrapped my head around everything. I started to feel...not resentful, but definitely anxious that my one chance to give this a shot was lost, and now with a baby coming, and the subsequent child-rearing that is generally associated with birthing, I would never work up the steam and nerve again.
But this, this is a great start. It gives me a little confidence, and definitely some motivation. Like crack, I think, knowing your words will be in print is a bit addictive.
Last month I found out that I actually made it to the top 13, which means my story will be officially published in an anthology coming out next fall! My first publication! They told me a month ago, but I wasn't supposed to make any announcements or anything until after the gala that they held last week.
I can't really explain how happy and excited I am. When we sold the business our intention was that I would work part time for a year, and see how far I could go in this writing thing. I got out this submission, and one or two others before we found out I was pregnant, and then writing sort of got put on the backburner again while I wrapped my head around everything. I started to feel...not resentful, but definitely anxious that my one chance to give this a shot was lost, and now with a baby coming, and the subsequent child-rearing that is generally associated with birthing, I would never work up the steam and nerve again.
But this, this is a great start. It gives me a little confidence, and definitely some motivation. Like crack, I think, knowing your words will be in print is a bit addictive.
Friday, November 26, 2010
28 weeks, 4 days
Here is the latest belly photo:
Taken this morning. To me, looks exactly like the LAST belly photo I posted. Although my pants would beg to differ. Maybe because I'm wearing black?
I have begun the prep work to The Insider's Lair. Yesterday I filled all the holes in the walls (the previous owner was a BIG fan of drywall anchors, which makes for very heavy patching), and today I will give the walls and baseboards a wash. I may even paint the trim today....although after dragging the contents of the room into our dining room, I'm already pretty exhausted. We'll see. Nesting fail.
We have yet to have even one conversation about possible name choices. I have been slowly building a list (I've gotten through A-M so far!) but I don't think SB has been working on his yet. In this respect, it would have been much easier if the Insider were a boy, since I have had a boy's name picked for years.
Tess says she is compiling some name selections, but will only tell them if we are really stuck.
Taken this morning. To me, looks exactly like the LAST belly photo I posted. Although my pants would beg to differ. Maybe because I'm wearing black?I have begun the prep work to The Insider's Lair. Yesterday I filled all the holes in the walls (the previous owner was a BIG fan of drywall anchors, which makes for very heavy patching), and today I will give the walls and baseboards a wash. I may even paint the trim today....although after dragging the contents of the room into our dining room, I'm already pretty exhausted. We'll see. Nesting fail.
We have yet to have even one conversation about possible name choices. I have been slowly building a list (I've gotten through A-M so far!) but I don't think SB has been working on his yet. In this respect, it would have been much easier if the Insider were a boy, since I have had a boy's name picked for years.
Tess says she is compiling some name selections, but will only tell them if we are really stuck.
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