I started this post in the early weeks. But it still holds mostly true.
Rough evenings
Sleepy nights
Peaceful mornings
That's pretty much how things go for us. The evenings are the most difficult times. Brambo is fussy and its difficult to make him happy. Max is often at work which leaves me alone with him after a long day. And when Max is home, we are trying to carry on some semblance of a conversation about either how our days went or serious decision topics. That isn't easy with a baby that needs almost constant attention. It's my most frustrating breast feeding time. Honestly, I think I'm just over it by the end of the day. But it's definitely Brambo's hungriest time.
Then we get to nights. When I'm up with him I'm in such a sleepy daze. I'm either focused on feeding him and getting him back to sleep as quickly as possible or annoyed that Max is asleep and I'm not or I'm actually dozing while feeding him. I know those are special moments too, but seriously, I'm just to sleepy to treasure them.
So every day as we move into evening time, especially in weeks 2-4, I would look ahead and hold out hope for the morning. Mornings are amazing. Brambo is sweet and snuggle and sleepy. He is perfectly happy in my arms cuddling or chilling by himself in his swing. So if I want to just hang onto him for awhile, I can. But if I need to sleep or get something done, I can. I feel refreshed from sleep and waking up at a semi normal time. Max is often still hanging around before heading to work. And the sun is coming up on a new day.
It brings a whole new meaning to "joy comes in the morning". And repeating that to myself saved me on some really really tough nights.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
two weeks
And just like that it has been too weeks. In some ways, time has gone slowly. But in more ways it has flown by.
I wanted to do a little check in about how we are doing and record some things I want to be sure to remember. This post is so random and disjointed. Maybe the most poorly written post ever. Oh well.
First, on c section recovery. If any of you have to deal with this in the future, take note. It is no joke. They are serious when they say it is real surgery. I think I did really well and it was still difficult. So Brambo was born at 1:41 am on Friday morning. I was on an adrenaline high, to to mention still numb for the next little while. But when the feeling did start coming back, it hurt. For about 6 hours or so (4 am - 10 am) I was miserable. I literally felt immobile. Like I was glued to one spot in the bed. Which leads me to my one and only tip. Move as much as possible as soon as possible. My main motivation was to get the IV site taken out. It was driving me crazy. That couldn't happen until 24 hours after the catheter came out. So, I wanted that out ASAP. They originally said they wouldn't take it out until late afternoon. But for whatever reason, they agreed to go ahead and take it out at 10 am. That was the turning point for me.
Once they take the catheter out, you are forced to get up and use the bathroom. No other choice. And because of all the IV fluids, you have to pee a lot. I mean a lot. And while getting up hurts really bad, each time is a little easier. It will also provide you with an opportunity to experience a new kind of intimacy with your significant other or whatever support person you choose. Seriously, I was thrilled that Max had the opportunity to help me pull up my hospital provided mesh undies. Good thing he loves me!
But seriously, the key to c section recovery is to get moving. I took four separate walks around the floor on day 1 and got out of that bed as soon as I could! And, take the pain medicine.
After coming home last week, I found myself in a pretty predictable pattern. It went like this...good day, bad day, good day, bad day. Sunday, the day we came home, was like a dream. We walked out of the hospital with a baby! Both sets of grandparents were still there and my brother, sister in law and nephew came to town too. Everyone did a great job of celebrating with us but also giving us space. I was feeling great; not in a lot of pain. Then Monday hit. Man I was sore. And emotional. Lots of crying. And the week pretty much went like that. A good day. And then a bad day. At least I know what's coming.
Wednesday we went for our first weight check. So he was born 7 lb 11 oz. When we left the hospital on Sunday he was 7 even. And when we went back for a weight check he was 7 even. Not great. They wanted us back the next day where we would be looking for a gain of at least a half ounce. And on Thursday, that's exactly what we got. Since he gained just what he needed, they said we could wait til Monday or Tuesday to come back. We made a lot of progress in breastfeeding over the next couple of days. I'll get more specific with that in another post. So we went to get weighed on Tuesday and he was 7 lb 10.5 oz. He gained 10 ounces in 5 days. We were ecstatic!
My mom stayed with us for a little over a week. It was so nice having her here and I can't wait until she comes back. Her time here definitely prolonged reality for us. She did lots of laundry, dishes, baby holding, etc. She took nighttime shifts. And in general I just love being with her. Having her here made me more relaxed, confident and stable. Needless to say I cried a lot when she left.
Brambo is absolutely amazing. He eats A LOT! I was totally unprepared for the amount of time I would spend feeding him. But I'm so thankful I am able to. He loves his swing and I can almost always count on it to give me a much needed break. I took my first shower when no one else was here today. He sat silently in his bouncy seat while I showered. Amazing. I absolutely love to watch his facial expressions while he eats. Super cute.
Wow. So random.
I wanted to do a little check in about how we are doing and record some things I want to be sure to remember. This post is so random and disjointed. Maybe the most poorly written post ever. Oh well.
First, on c section recovery. If any of you have to deal with this in the future, take note. It is no joke. They are serious when they say it is real surgery. I think I did really well and it was still difficult. So Brambo was born at 1:41 am on Friday morning. I was on an adrenaline high, to to mention still numb for the next little while. But when the feeling did start coming back, it hurt. For about 6 hours or so (4 am - 10 am) I was miserable. I literally felt immobile. Like I was glued to one spot in the bed. Which leads me to my one and only tip. Move as much as possible as soon as possible. My main motivation was to get the IV site taken out. It was driving me crazy. That couldn't happen until 24 hours after the catheter came out. So, I wanted that out ASAP. They originally said they wouldn't take it out until late afternoon. But for whatever reason, they agreed to go ahead and take it out at 10 am. That was the turning point for me.
Once they take the catheter out, you are forced to get up and use the bathroom. No other choice. And because of all the IV fluids, you have to pee a lot. I mean a lot. And while getting up hurts really bad, each time is a little easier. It will also provide you with an opportunity to experience a new kind of intimacy with your significant other or whatever support person you choose. Seriously, I was thrilled that Max had the opportunity to help me pull up my hospital provided mesh undies. Good thing he loves me!
But seriously, the key to c section recovery is to get moving. I took four separate walks around the floor on day 1 and got out of that bed as soon as I could! And, take the pain medicine.
After coming home last week, I found myself in a pretty predictable pattern. It went like this...good day, bad day, good day, bad day. Sunday, the day we came home, was like a dream. We walked out of the hospital with a baby! Both sets of grandparents were still there and my brother, sister in law and nephew came to town too. Everyone did a great job of celebrating with us but also giving us space. I was feeling great; not in a lot of pain. Then Monday hit. Man I was sore. And emotional. Lots of crying. And the week pretty much went like that. A good day. And then a bad day. At least I know what's coming.
Wednesday we went for our first weight check. So he was born 7 lb 11 oz. When we left the hospital on Sunday he was 7 even. And when we went back for a weight check he was 7 even. Not great. They wanted us back the next day where we would be looking for a gain of at least a half ounce. And on Thursday, that's exactly what we got. Since he gained just what he needed, they said we could wait til Monday or Tuesday to come back. We made a lot of progress in breastfeeding over the next couple of days. I'll get more specific with that in another post. So we went to get weighed on Tuesday and he was 7 lb 10.5 oz. He gained 10 ounces in 5 days. We were ecstatic!
My mom stayed with us for a little over a week. It was so nice having her here and I can't wait until she comes back. Her time here definitely prolonged reality for us. She did lots of laundry, dishes, baby holding, etc. She took nighttime shifts. And in general I just love being with her. Having her here made me more relaxed, confident and stable. Needless to say I cried a lot when she left.
Brambo is absolutely amazing. He eats A LOT! I was totally unprepared for the amount of time I would spend feeding him. But I'm so thankful I am able to. He loves his swing and I can almost always count on it to give me a much needed break. I took my first shower when no one else was here today. He sat silently in his bouncy seat while I showered. Amazing. I absolutely love to watch his facial expressions while he eats. Super cute.
Wow. So random.
Monday, February 25, 2013
his story part 3
Its amazing how "tomorrow" turns into four days. :)
Picking up where we left off... 9:30 pm on Valentine's Day with the lovely gift of an epidural. The pitocin was started soon after. And let me tell you, the few contractions I felt after pitocin and before the second epidural kicked in definitely confirmed my decision to get the drugs!
Around that same time we decided to send our parents to the house. Both sets had made it into town earlier in the evening. Laura agreed with us that it would probably be a long, slow night waiting on progress and that the baby probably wouldn't arrive until morning. Our house is just about 10 minutes from the hospital and someone needed to let the dog out. So they left with our many promises to tell them ASAP if anything changed. At that point, Max and I turned the lights off and tried to get some sleep.
A bit later I woke up to Laura walking in and turning some lights on. As soon as I saw her face I knew we were in for bad news. She had been monitoring the baby from the nurses station and over the last two hours his heart rate continued to drop more drastically during contractions and was no longer recovering well between contractions. She had me move around some and change positions a few time to see if we could get his heart rate to spike up with no success. She called the doc and proceeded to check my progress. How many centimeters? You guessed it....3. So after at least 8 hours of active labor, 2.5 of those with very strong pitocin assisted contractions, I had made zero progress. The doctor came in and confirmed Laura's assessment.
If it was just an issue of slow/no progress they would have let me go for several hours. But the baby was not responding well to the stress of labor. It was c section time. Of course, I was disappointed. I went into this not wanting interventions. And here I was about to check them all off the list. Internal monitoring, epidural, pitocin, and to top it off...c section. But for whatever reason I felt totally at peace. We called our parents...who were not very happy with us for sending them home! The doctor assured us this was not an emergency but he was ready, the anesthesiologist was ready, and they weren't going to take their time. So before I knew it and definitely before my mom got back, they were wheeling me down the hall.
The next little bit was a blur. All I distinctly remember was the nurse anesthetist saying I was his favorite patient of the night because I was so relaxed. He was very impressed that I was joking with them and not freaking out. I will say that I was very thankful for him as well. He was so personable and comforting. He talked to me the whole time, telling me everything that was happening and making sure I was ok. It's always nice to see someone so perfectly suited to the nuances of their job.
I did lose a bit of my relaxation when they started cutting before Max was in the room. On the verge of freaking out, they assured me he was walking in the door any minute and before I knew it he was kissing my forehead and holding my hand. The sensation of the surgery was so weird. No pain, but I could feel everything that was happening. Very very weird.
Before long, the nurse anesthetist told Max that it was happening and he could look if he wanted. Without letting go of my hand, he stood up to peek over the screen. All of a sudden I felt a stillness in the room and then heard that glorious cry. They announced time of birth as 1:41 am as he continued to scream and Max leaned down to kiss me through tears. Almost immediately they brought him around for me to see. The first thing I said was, "He's so little!" Max followed the nurses and the baby and the doctors started the process of putting me back together. Weird.
Every few seconds Max would shout out some information for me. 7 lb 11 oz. 20.5 inches. Lots of hair. Big feet. My nose. Beautiful. And then they swaddled him up and Max carried him over to me. He held him down close so I could kiss him and one of the nurses took our first family picture. Then, Max and the baby went to meet the grandparents.
After they wheeled me to recovery, Laura brought the baby to me for some skin to skin time and an attempt at nursing. Feeling him lying on my chest and watching him explore his new world was amazing. Max and I were exhausted and kept looking at each other in disbelief. This was real life. We made it. We made him. We had a real life, honest to God son. Unbelievable.
I've decided that here I will call him Brambo. It's one of his nicknames.
Boy do we love him!
Picking up where we left off... 9:30 pm on Valentine's Day with the lovely gift of an epidural. The pitocin was started soon after. And let me tell you, the few contractions I felt after pitocin and before the second epidural kicked in definitely confirmed my decision to get the drugs!
Around that same time we decided to send our parents to the house. Both sets had made it into town earlier in the evening. Laura agreed with us that it would probably be a long, slow night waiting on progress and that the baby probably wouldn't arrive until morning. Our house is just about 10 minutes from the hospital and someone needed to let the dog out. So they left with our many promises to tell them ASAP if anything changed. At that point, Max and I turned the lights off and tried to get some sleep.
A bit later I woke up to Laura walking in and turning some lights on. As soon as I saw her face I knew we were in for bad news. She had been monitoring the baby from the nurses station and over the last two hours his heart rate continued to drop more drastically during contractions and was no longer recovering well between contractions. She had me move around some and change positions a few time to see if we could get his heart rate to spike up with no success. She called the doc and proceeded to check my progress. How many centimeters? You guessed it....3. So after at least 8 hours of active labor, 2.5 of those with very strong pitocin assisted contractions, I had made zero progress. The doctor came in and confirmed Laura's assessment.
If it was just an issue of slow/no progress they would have let me go for several hours. But the baby was not responding well to the stress of labor. It was c section time. Of course, I was disappointed. I went into this not wanting interventions. And here I was about to check them all off the list. Internal monitoring, epidural, pitocin, and to top it off...c section. But for whatever reason I felt totally at peace. We called our parents...who were not very happy with us for sending them home! The doctor assured us this was not an emergency but he was ready, the anesthesiologist was ready, and they weren't going to take their time. So before I knew it and definitely before my mom got back, they were wheeling me down the hall.
The next little bit was a blur. All I distinctly remember was the nurse anesthetist saying I was his favorite patient of the night because I was so relaxed. He was very impressed that I was joking with them and not freaking out. I will say that I was very thankful for him as well. He was so personable and comforting. He talked to me the whole time, telling me everything that was happening and making sure I was ok. It's always nice to see someone so perfectly suited to the nuances of their job.
I did lose a bit of my relaxation when they started cutting before Max was in the room. On the verge of freaking out, they assured me he was walking in the door any minute and before I knew it he was kissing my forehead and holding my hand. The sensation of the surgery was so weird. No pain, but I could feel everything that was happening. Very very weird.
Before long, the nurse anesthetist told Max that it was happening and he could look if he wanted. Without letting go of my hand, he stood up to peek over the screen. All of a sudden I felt a stillness in the room and then heard that glorious cry. They announced time of birth as 1:41 am as he continued to scream and Max leaned down to kiss me through tears. Almost immediately they brought him around for me to see. The first thing I said was, "He's so little!" Max followed the nurses and the baby and the doctors started the process of putting me back together. Weird.
Every few seconds Max would shout out some information for me. 7 lb 11 oz. 20.5 inches. Lots of hair. Big feet. My nose. Beautiful. And then they swaddled him up and Max carried him over to me. He held him down close so I could kiss him and one of the nurses took our first family picture. Then, Max and the baby went to meet the grandparents.
After they wheeled me to recovery, Laura brought the baby to me for some skin to skin time and an attempt at nursing. Feeling him lying on my chest and watching him explore his new world was amazing. Max and I were exhausted and kept looking at each other in disbelief. This was real life. We made it. We made him. We had a real life, honest to God son. Unbelievable.
I've decided that here I will call him Brambo. It's one of his nicknames.
Boy do we love him!
Saturday, February 23, 2013
his story part 2
So when we left off, I was settled in the hospital room at about 5:30. The nurse worked on all of the preliminary stuff...iv, fetal monitor, lots of questions, etc.
At about 6:30, the the doctor came in and we met for the first time. As I said before, this just so happened I be the only dr in the practice who I had heard bad things about and I didn't want to deliver with. So I will freely admit that I may not have had the best attitude going in. He introduced himself and proceeded to check my progress. When I was with my dr at about 4:15, she said I was between 3 and 4 cm. When he checked 2 hours later he informed me that I definitely wasn't beyond a 3. Awesome. So he had been in the room approximately 10 minutes when he started talking about pitocin. I think I probably bristled a little as I told him that wasn't something I wanted to do unless I had to. After asking me what I had against pitocin but never letting me finish a sentence, he proceeded to lecture Max and I for about 20 minutes about interventions and why they are needed. This included statements like "I don't know what you've been reading", "I'm the expert" and multiple references to the frontier days when "women and children died in birth all the time". Thanks doc.
He left the room with the plan to check back in a couple of hours and see where we were then. In the meantime, the contractions sped up a bit and got more intense and the nurses changed shift. We were so happy when our new nurse walked in as she was the person that did our childbirth class, Laura. It was great to see a familiar face and talk through some things with someone we trusted. From the minute we checked in I had been asking about being able to be up and moving around with intermittent monitoring. Unfortunately, the baby's heart rate was dropping a little much for comfort during contractions. He recovered well in the rest times so they weren't overly concerned but they weren't comfortable letting me off the monitor.
The dr came back about 8:30 to check again. So after 2 hours of contractions 2-3 minutes apart that, to me at least, seemed at least quasi intense, doc says "you have made no progress". I said, channeling my college students, "like, literally, zero progress?" He confirmed, literally zero progress. So, next step, because we were having some issues keeping constant monitoring of his heart rate, doc wanted to switch to the internal scalp monitor. And, he wanted to start monitoring my contractions internally to see exactly how strong they were. Since that bought me some time before pitocin, we agreed.
Over the next hour, Laura checked on us pretty often and kept me posted on what the contraction strength was. Bottom line, not strong enough. It became clear pretty quickly that pitocin was in my future. It also became clear that, while I'm sure I could have finished without an epidural, I no longer wanted to. The contractions were already pretty painful and given the amount they needed to intensify, I just decided that it wasn't the experience I wanted anymore. And honestly, I was scared of the pitocin. I wanted to be calm and I wanted to enjoy the experience with Max. So at about 9:30 I got the epidural. After about 20 minutes, I told Max I was kinda frustrated because I felt like I had given in and I thought I would have gotten more relief. Laura overheard that and said I shouldn't be feeling much at all. That definitely was not the case so they called the anesthesiologist again who first tried a more concentrated dose. When that didn't work either, he redid it. Yep, two epidurals! Thankfully the second worked and let me tell you, it was pure bliss.
Ok. I will finish up with part 3 tomorrow!
At about 6:30, the the doctor came in and we met for the first time. As I said before, this just so happened I be the only dr in the practice who I had heard bad things about and I didn't want to deliver with. So I will freely admit that I may not have had the best attitude going in. He introduced himself and proceeded to check my progress. When I was with my dr at about 4:15, she said I was between 3 and 4 cm. When he checked 2 hours later he informed me that I definitely wasn't beyond a 3. Awesome. So he had been in the room approximately 10 minutes when he started talking about pitocin. I think I probably bristled a little as I told him that wasn't something I wanted to do unless I had to. After asking me what I had against pitocin but never letting me finish a sentence, he proceeded to lecture Max and I for about 20 minutes about interventions and why they are needed. This included statements like "I don't know what you've been reading", "I'm the expert" and multiple references to the frontier days when "women and children died in birth all the time". Thanks doc.
He left the room with the plan to check back in a couple of hours and see where we were then. In the meantime, the contractions sped up a bit and got more intense and the nurses changed shift. We were so happy when our new nurse walked in as she was the person that did our childbirth class, Laura. It was great to see a familiar face and talk through some things with someone we trusted. From the minute we checked in I had been asking about being able to be up and moving around with intermittent monitoring. Unfortunately, the baby's heart rate was dropping a little much for comfort during contractions. He recovered well in the rest times so they weren't overly concerned but they weren't comfortable letting me off the monitor.
The dr came back about 8:30 to check again. So after 2 hours of contractions 2-3 minutes apart that, to me at least, seemed at least quasi intense, doc says "you have made no progress". I said, channeling my college students, "like, literally, zero progress?" He confirmed, literally zero progress. So, next step, because we were having some issues keeping constant monitoring of his heart rate, doc wanted to switch to the internal scalp monitor. And, he wanted to start monitoring my contractions internally to see exactly how strong they were. Since that bought me some time before pitocin, we agreed.
Over the next hour, Laura checked on us pretty often and kept me posted on what the contraction strength was. Bottom line, not strong enough. It became clear pretty quickly that pitocin was in my future. It also became clear that, while I'm sure I could have finished without an epidural, I no longer wanted to. The contractions were already pretty painful and given the amount they needed to intensify, I just decided that it wasn't the experience I wanted anymore. And honestly, I was scared of the pitocin. I wanted to be calm and I wanted to enjoy the experience with Max. So at about 9:30 I got the epidural. After about 20 minutes, I told Max I was kinda frustrated because I felt like I had given in and I thought I would have gotten more relief. Laura overheard that and said I shouldn't be feeling much at all. That definitely was not the case so they called the anesthesiologist again who first tried a more concentrated dose. When that didn't work either, he redid it. Yep, two epidurals! Thankfully the second worked and let me tell you, it was pure bliss.
Ok. I will finish up with part 3 tomorrow!
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
pictures of the man
I've gone back and forth on posting pictures, given my desire to stay anonymous. But I'm going to go ahead and post a few. These may be the only ones so enjoy!
Monday, February 18, 2013
his story part 1
Here I am on the night shift and trying to set aside some time to write this story down. I'm struggling right now with what to call him in this space and how much anonymity to maintain. Maybe by the end of the post I will have decided.
So let's go back to Wednesday. I had an appt Wed morning at which I was still just 1 cm but was showing other signs of progress that labor might be on its way. I finished out that day with more hope than anytime in the past month that this might actually happen on its own. This was also Ash Wednesday, a fairly important day in Max's job and one of my favorite church services in the Christian liturgical calendar. I have a full post of thoughts about the Lenten season and the juxtaposition of this season of life for me. Needless to say, I had a Wednesday full of reflection and deep thought. I went to bed Wednesday night after responding to the only real "nesting" urges I felt strongly this pregnancy.
Thursday morning I woke up at 4:15 to the immediate realization that I was having contractions. From the very beginning, they were about 8 minutes apart and lasted about 30-40 seconds. Honestly, those first moments were exactly how I imagined them. I laid in bed with Max sleeping beside me and concentrated on the work my body was doing to bring my child into the world.
My plan that day was to work until lunch. I decided to go ahead and move forward with that unless it got to the point that I was too uncomfortable. Contractions continued like clockwork through the early morning. My only concern was feeling confident that I made the right decision about when to stop my heparin. When I got into the office I let my boss know what was happening and called to leave a message for my dr about not doing my morning injection. The nurse called back about 9 with instructions for me to come on in to be checked so we could make an educated decision about the meds. They wanted me in at 10:30. The nurse mentioned that depending on how things looked she might just send me on to the hospital. As soon as I heard that word I felt a sense that things might fall apart. I officially finished up some emails and had a last minute convo with several coworkers and Max came to pick me up. In the meantime we had let our parents know what was happening and they decided to start the process of leaving TN and starting the drive down.
At about 9:45 I got three texts from a cousin and two sisters in law that said they heard I was in "labor" and they were so excited I was going to have a valentines baby. I immediately thought, "noooo! I'm not in labor...I'm having contractions that could stop any minute!! Don't jinx me!!!!" And NO JOKE....they stopped cold. We still gathered our stuff and got to the office at 10:30. When I told the nurse that I hadn't felt anything in 45 minutes she suggested we go walk around the parking lot and come back in an hour. We did that and...still nothing!! She went ahead and checked me and I had progressed to 2 cm. geez. So we decided to strip membranes and see how the day went.
Max and I decided to go grab lunch and take in a movie. During lunch, at about 12:30, contractions restarted pretty much where they left off; 8 minutes apart for about 30-40 seconds. The movie started at 1:45 and, again, they were pretty predictable. By the time we got to the end of the movie, the average timing for the previous hour and a half was 4.5 minutes apart lasting 50 seconds each. For about the last 30 minutes of the movie, they were approaching what I might call intense. To the point that I was gripping Max's hand and I was worried the people around me could hear me breathing. The dr had told us to call back if the action started again so we did and she said to come on in.
As I climbed up on the table, hoping and praying for good news, my water broke. Sure enough, she confirmed that I hadn't just peed on myself and that I was between 3 and 4 centimeters. Because my water broke, she wanted us to go straight over to the hospital. Ideally, we would have stayed at home a little longer, but she didn't really give us that option. She also let us know who was on call that day, who just so happened to be the only dr in the practice that I didn't want to deliver with. Bummer.
We still took our time a little bit. We sat in the car for a bit making calls, sending texts, and eating some snacks. We finally walked in (painfully for me!) and got settled into the room at about 5:30.
Stay tuned...
So let's go back to Wednesday. I had an appt Wed morning at which I was still just 1 cm but was showing other signs of progress that labor might be on its way. I finished out that day with more hope than anytime in the past month that this might actually happen on its own. This was also Ash Wednesday, a fairly important day in Max's job and one of my favorite church services in the Christian liturgical calendar. I have a full post of thoughts about the Lenten season and the juxtaposition of this season of life for me. Needless to say, I had a Wednesday full of reflection and deep thought. I went to bed Wednesday night after responding to the only real "nesting" urges I felt strongly this pregnancy.
Thursday morning I woke up at 4:15 to the immediate realization that I was having contractions. From the very beginning, they were about 8 minutes apart and lasted about 30-40 seconds. Honestly, those first moments were exactly how I imagined them. I laid in bed with Max sleeping beside me and concentrated on the work my body was doing to bring my child into the world.
My plan that day was to work until lunch. I decided to go ahead and move forward with that unless it got to the point that I was too uncomfortable. Contractions continued like clockwork through the early morning. My only concern was feeling confident that I made the right decision about when to stop my heparin. When I got into the office I let my boss know what was happening and called to leave a message for my dr about not doing my morning injection. The nurse called back about 9 with instructions for me to come on in to be checked so we could make an educated decision about the meds. They wanted me in at 10:30. The nurse mentioned that depending on how things looked she might just send me on to the hospital. As soon as I heard that word I felt a sense that things might fall apart. I officially finished up some emails and had a last minute convo with several coworkers and Max came to pick me up. In the meantime we had let our parents know what was happening and they decided to start the process of leaving TN and starting the drive down.
At about 9:45 I got three texts from a cousin and two sisters in law that said they heard I was in "labor" and they were so excited I was going to have a valentines baby. I immediately thought, "noooo! I'm not in labor...I'm having contractions that could stop any minute!! Don't jinx me!!!!" And NO JOKE....they stopped cold. We still gathered our stuff and got to the office at 10:30. When I told the nurse that I hadn't felt anything in 45 minutes she suggested we go walk around the parking lot and come back in an hour. We did that and...still nothing!! She went ahead and checked me and I had progressed to 2 cm. geez. So we decided to strip membranes and see how the day went.
Max and I decided to go grab lunch and take in a movie. During lunch, at about 12:30, contractions restarted pretty much where they left off; 8 minutes apart for about 30-40 seconds. The movie started at 1:45 and, again, they were pretty predictable. By the time we got to the end of the movie, the average timing for the previous hour and a half was 4.5 minutes apart lasting 50 seconds each. For about the last 30 minutes of the movie, they were approaching what I might call intense. To the point that I was gripping Max's hand and I was worried the people around me could hear me breathing. The dr had told us to call back if the action started again so we did and she said to come on in.
As I climbed up on the table, hoping and praying for good news, my water broke. Sure enough, she confirmed that I hadn't just peed on myself and that I was between 3 and 4 centimeters. Because my water broke, she wanted us to go straight over to the hospital. Ideally, we would have stayed at home a little longer, but she didn't really give us that option. She also let us know who was on call that day, who just so happened to be the only dr in the practice that I didn't want to deliver with. Bummer.
We still took our time a little bit. We sat in the car for a bit making calls, sending texts, and eating some snacks. We finally walked in (painfully for me!) and got settled into the room at about 5:30.
Stay tuned...
Friday, February 15, 2013
and he's here!
It is amazing and surreal and emotional and unbelievable.
It didn't turn out as planned but I'm happy with the experience. Now to handle recovery.
More later.
It didn't turn out as planned but I'm happy with the experience. Now to handle recovery.
More later.
Monday, February 11, 2013
birthdays
Ok. So this one might be a little more difficult. To both write and to read. This may hit some of you in a way that hurts you. I've struggled so much on whether not to write about this now. But the truth is, as I approach the end of this week, I know I need to do some pre-processing and this is the space I have for that. So know, I am trying to be very careful with my feelings and my words, even if at some point it doesn't seem that I am.
You may remember some of my story about being born on my mother's birthday. And then the next chapter of that story of my niece being born on our birthday. If you need a refresher, check here, here and here. Even now as I read those words, it seems unreal. And my pain is fresh. Of course, time and my beautiful niece who I absolutely adore has dulled that pain. But it didn't disappear. This post talks about the first time I met my niece. Those words paint that picture so vividly in my mind. The overwhelming mixture of pain and joy.
So there's the back story.
Fast forward to present time. My due date was Feb 2. Early in the pregnancy, I thought I might not even go that far. I had a friend who was on heparin injections and her doctor induced her at 39 weeks so they could plan when to stop her injections and avoid any bleeding issues. I assumed that's how I would be. When I learned that wasn't my doctor's protocol, I still assumed I would go into labor fairly close to my due date. Last week when I saw a substitute doctor and we started realistically talking about induction, we figured we would induce on whichever day my doctor was on call. So, he went to find out when that is. He came back to tell us she wasn't on call until February 16, when I will be exactly 42 weeks. He didn't think she would want to wait that long, so even then, I pushed the thought out of my mind. Until my doctor's nurse called me back. As it turns out, given the latest ultrasound and NST, she is comfortable waiting that long. So I will go in on Wednesday and if everything looks good we will induce late Friday or early Saturday. On February 16th. Max's birthday.
And for the life of me, I cannot figure out how to feel about that. I wrote this in one of those previous posts about my niece:
And now, I can't help but think this. God said, if you thought that was bad. Just wait. I'm going to take exactly what you wanted, a daughter born on your birthday, and give it to Max....a son born on his. Screw you.
When I think about what that might feel like, I imagine pain. Out of control emotions and a feeling of empty wanting. And then I combine that image with what it will be like to give birth to my son and it doesn't make sense. Is that even possible? Maybe I won't even care. Is it even possible for this to matter in the midst of such joy? Will the pain even register? Do I want to find out?
What if, in what should be the most amazing experience of my life, all I can think about is what I don't have? What I wasn't given?
I feel so incredibly selfish. I know I should just be grateful. And I am. My God, I wanted a child and here I am. So close to getting just that. What more can I ask for?!? But I can't pretend that these emotions aren't there.
Of course, it doesn't have to be Saturday. If we asked, she would probably induce on Wednesday after our appointment. Or it could be Thursday. Or Friday. Or it could happen naturally any day between now and then.
Here's the question. Will I regret, down the road, not choosing a different day? Avoiding this pain altogether and giving my son his own birthday. And if I do that, will I regret taking this away from Max? It's not like it will change his life or anything, but it's special. I know. It's something you can't plan. It just happens. And here it is, happening for him, and I say no?
Max, by the way, is completely amazing. He understands completely. He says he won't care either way. Whether he comes tonight on his own or we choose to induce on Wednesday or we wait and do it on Saturday. It doesn't matter to him.
And again, will it really matter to me, when it comes down to it? Will anything be able to take away from my joy that day? Maybe I'll start off as fine, but when Max's mother or anyone else starts to make a big deal out of the shared birthday, will the pain start to creep in? Maybe I'll be fine that day, and then weeks down the road I will look back to a dirtied memory.
So that's what's going on. I wish so badly I could say that I don't care. But this grip on my heart tells me otherwise.
You may remember some of my story about being born on my mother's birthday. And then the next chapter of that story of my niece being born on our birthday. If you need a refresher, check here, here and here. Even now as I read those words, it seems unreal. And my pain is fresh. Of course, time and my beautiful niece who I absolutely adore has dulled that pain. But it didn't disappear. This post talks about the first time I met my niece. Those words paint that picture so vividly in my mind. The overwhelming mixture of pain and joy.
So there's the back story.
Fast forward to present time. My due date was Feb 2. Early in the pregnancy, I thought I might not even go that far. I had a friend who was on heparin injections and her doctor induced her at 39 weeks so they could plan when to stop her injections and avoid any bleeding issues. I assumed that's how I would be. When I learned that wasn't my doctor's protocol, I still assumed I would go into labor fairly close to my due date. Last week when I saw a substitute doctor and we started realistically talking about induction, we figured we would induce on whichever day my doctor was on call. So, he went to find out when that is. He came back to tell us she wasn't on call until February 16, when I will be exactly 42 weeks. He didn't think she would want to wait that long, so even then, I pushed the thought out of my mind. Until my doctor's nurse called me back. As it turns out, given the latest ultrasound and NST, she is comfortable waiting that long. So I will go in on Wednesday and if everything looks good we will induce late Friday or early Saturday. On February 16th. Max's birthday.
And for the life of me, I cannot figure out how to feel about that. I wrote this in one of those previous posts about my niece:
I fell like God said, you think it will be painful for her to be born on Max's birthday? You think it will be hard to be there when she's born? Just wait. I'll show you what I can do. Happy effing birthday.
And now, I can't help but think this. God said, if you thought that was bad. Just wait. I'm going to take exactly what you wanted, a daughter born on your birthday, and give it to Max....a son born on his. Screw you.
When I think about what that might feel like, I imagine pain. Out of control emotions and a feeling of empty wanting. And then I combine that image with what it will be like to give birth to my son and it doesn't make sense. Is that even possible? Maybe I won't even care. Is it even possible for this to matter in the midst of such joy? Will the pain even register? Do I want to find out?
What if, in what should be the most amazing experience of my life, all I can think about is what I don't have? What I wasn't given?
I feel so incredibly selfish. I know I should just be grateful. And I am. My God, I wanted a child and here I am. So close to getting just that. What more can I ask for?!? But I can't pretend that these emotions aren't there.
Of course, it doesn't have to be Saturday. If we asked, she would probably induce on Wednesday after our appointment. Or it could be Thursday. Or Friday. Or it could happen naturally any day between now and then.
Here's the question. Will I regret, down the road, not choosing a different day? Avoiding this pain altogether and giving my son his own birthday. And if I do that, will I regret taking this away from Max? It's not like it will change his life or anything, but it's special. I know. It's something you can't plan. It just happens. And here it is, happening for him, and I say no?
Max, by the way, is completely amazing. He understands completely. He says he won't care either way. Whether he comes tonight on his own or we choose to induce on Wednesday or we wait and do it on Saturday. It doesn't matter to him.
And again, will it really matter to me, when it comes down to it? Will anything be able to take away from my joy that day? Maybe I'll start off as fine, but when Max's mother or anyone else starts to make a big deal out of the shared birthday, will the pain start to creep in? Maybe I'll be fine that day, and then weeks down the road I will look back to a dirtied memory.
So that's what's going on. I wish so badly I could say that I don't care. But this grip on my heart tells me otherwise.
past due
I'm such a big talker. All relaxed and take it as it comes. Easier said than done.
The biggest problem is that with every day that goes by past my due date, the harder it is to convince myself that it could even happen on its own. I'm losing confidence and losing hope. And the thing is, the only thing looming is the thing I said would be fine if it came to that anyway. Induction. It's not even that bad!
It's funny. I have read so many of your stories about how you thought that because you struggled so much to get pregnant, you thought you deserved an easy road through the rest of it. Whether it was the delivery you wanted or an easy baby, our prior struggles guaranteed something simple down the road. So no matter how many times I read that and tell myself struggles guarantee me nothing, there's still part of me that thinks surely a birth just like I wanted will make up for the pain I experienced on the road to get here. And of course here I am staring at exactly what I didn't want. And I'm surprised? I guess even when you read the warnings of others, there are just some things you have to experience yourself.
I am 41 weeks and 1 day and my next appointment is on Wednesday. If I make it to that point we will probably induce on Friday night or Saturday morning. That takes me all the way to 42 weeks. I feel very lucky to have a doctor that is comfortable going that far. I keep trying to tell myself that there is still time for it to just happen. But I've been dilated 1 cm for a month now and have felt a total of 3 contractions during that time. Thankfully the baby has passed all tests with flying colors and remains very healthy at this late stage.
We keep trying pep talks for my uterus. I routinely implore it to "do something!!!" to no avail. Every night I go to sleep thinking "maybe this will be the night!" Only to wake up with the realization that today is the same as yesterday.
But I know it will be different one day soon. And until then I will just keep enjoying the time I have. Because before I whisper that hopeful statement before I go to bed, I sit in my chair and watch the baby dance in my belly. Knowing I may never have this chance again.
The biggest problem is that with every day that goes by past my due date, the harder it is to convince myself that it could even happen on its own. I'm losing confidence and losing hope. And the thing is, the only thing looming is the thing I said would be fine if it came to that anyway. Induction. It's not even that bad!
It's funny. I have read so many of your stories about how you thought that because you struggled so much to get pregnant, you thought you deserved an easy road through the rest of it. Whether it was the delivery you wanted or an easy baby, our prior struggles guaranteed something simple down the road. So no matter how many times I read that and tell myself struggles guarantee me nothing, there's still part of me that thinks surely a birth just like I wanted will make up for the pain I experienced on the road to get here. And of course here I am staring at exactly what I didn't want. And I'm surprised? I guess even when you read the warnings of others, there are just some things you have to experience yourself.
I am 41 weeks and 1 day and my next appointment is on Wednesday. If I make it to that point we will probably induce on Friday night or Saturday morning. That takes me all the way to 42 weeks. I feel very lucky to have a doctor that is comfortable going that far. I keep trying to tell myself that there is still time for it to just happen. But I've been dilated 1 cm for a month now and have felt a total of 3 contractions during that time. Thankfully the baby has passed all tests with flying colors and remains very healthy at this late stage.
We keep trying pep talks for my uterus. I routinely implore it to "do something!!!" to no avail. Every night I go to sleep thinking "maybe this will be the night!" Only to wake up with the realization that today is the same as yesterday.
But I know it will be different one day soon. And until then I will just keep enjoying the time I have. Because before I whisper that hopeful statement before I go to bed, I sit in my chair and watch the baby dance in my belly. Knowing I may never have this chance again.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
thankful
As I prepare to write some deeper posts, I wanted to take a minute to remind myself of everything I am thankful for at this point in time.
For this miracle baby boy (edit: who is still in my belly!)
For carrying him (edit: past) full term.
That i have had a relatively easy pregnancy with very few of the more difficult symptoms that I dreaded even in my most wishful infertility valleys.
For great friends who are supportive and help me keep things in perspective.
For a naturally laid back attitude and approach to life.
That Max and I didn't have any plans the last three weekends because we assumed we would be busy. It's allowed us to do whatever we wanted and have three last date weekends in a row!
For coworkers that have allowed me to be flexible as we wait for the unpredictable.
For easy going doctors that aren't pushy.
Mostly for Max. He really is amazing. He encourages laying around and resting with the perfect mixture of continuing to do what I feel like I need/want to do. Tells me it's ok when I have an irrational emotional breakdown and carries on through life with me when I'm ready to take the day for whatever it brings. He's pretty good.
For this miracle baby boy (edit: who is still in my belly!)
For carrying him (edit: past) full term.
That i have had a relatively easy pregnancy with very few of the more difficult symptoms that I dreaded even in my most wishful infertility valleys.
For great friends who are supportive and help me keep things in perspective.
For a naturally laid back attitude and approach to life.
That Max and I didn't have any plans the last three weekends because we assumed we would be busy. It's allowed us to do whatever we wanted and have three last date weekends in a row!
For coworkers that have allowed me to be flexible as we wait for the unpredictable.
For easy going doctors that aren't pushy.
Mostly for Max. He really is amazing. He encourages laying around and resting with the perfect mixture of continuing to do what I feel like I need/want to do. Tells me it's ok when I have an irrational emotional breakdown and carries on through life with me when I'm ready to take the day for whatever it brings. He's pretty good.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
on my due date
These are the things I'm curious about...
Will I be able to go into labor on my own?
Who will he look like?
Will our parents make it here in time?
What will breast feeding be like for us?
How will the dog react to this sweet baby?
Will my friends and family give me some peace for however long we have left without bugging me too much about whether or not he is here?!?
Will this be my only pregnancy?
Will I be a good mother?
Only time will tell....
Will this be my only pregnancy?
Will I be able to go into labor on my own?
Who will he look like?
Will our parents make it here in time?
What will breast feeding be like for us?
How will the dog react to this sweet baby?
Will my friends and family give me some peace for however long we have left without bugging me too much about whether or not he is here?!?
Will this be my only pregnancy?
Will I be a good mother?
Only time will tell....
Will this be my only pregnancy?
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