Alright. I think I might rant. Fair warning. Let's see how this turns out.
Why, when you announce a new milestone that has been reached in your young babies life, do other people (women especially) say things like "Oh, no. You're in trouble now."?
Here is an example: Dario rolled over from his tummy to his back. He had done it a few times before but it seemed like an accident then and this was definitely deliberate. He was four months old. This is great! He is using his body the way he is supposed to. He is reaching important milestones in his physical development. So with my excitement, I posted a short clip of the video I had recorded of our little fella in action. I was surprised at the response. Many of the comments that followed included "oh no" and "you're in trouble now" and "it won't be long until he's into everything".
Okay, so I'm a new mom. I don't "know" what it's like to stay at home with a toddler, I have never gone through those years myself. I have some idea. I have been around children, I have baby sat. I am also six years older than my brother and I remember how annoying he was to me when he was two or three. Still, why would reaching a new era in a persons physical development be received with gasps and frowns.
I know what is coming. I do. My baby will turn into a toddler, then a child. Soon after he'll somehow turn into a walking, talking, thinking, adult human being. Whoa. Amazing isn't it? I can forget that in the moment of playing with my infant son that he will be my age someday. If we are lucky. And there is my frustration with the negitivity. If we are lucky.
If we are lucky. Our child will roll over. He will learn to push himself up, respond to his name, crawl then walk, eat food and think for himself. We should be so lucky. Some would say "God willing". So when Dario rolls over we should all smile. He is a normal baby. He is able to roll over. He is alive and growing.
I know there are people who sigh at everything. Complain about everything. Use everything they can as an excuse. Those people may be frustrated that their baby starts to walk and talk. Annoyed when they cry out. They are bothered to wake at night, to have too cook for them, to pick up after them. Think about what happens then:
They interact with their children in a frustrated, annoyed way. Teaching their kid how to act frustrated and annoying. Then it seems they try to suppress every new thing the child does. Crawling or walking? They will be strapped in a high chair, sitting in a play pen or wrangled into a kiddie corral or plastic fenced in area in the house. Don't let them learn and explore because they don't want to deal with supervising this. How will a child learn anything if he isn't allowed to do anything? Don't want to clean up after them? Resent them and clean nothing instead. Then they will never learn how to clean up after themselves and they will get used to the idea that they are worthless and everyone resents them.
In my days as a receptionator (TM) scheduling appointments over the phone, I spoke with a lot of these parents. I would try to schedule an appointment and they would say "no, that time won't work. I will have to bring the kids with me." I would explain they are welcomed to bring children and we have a nice waiting area for everyone. They would seem frustrated with me that I would suggest it. "Oh, you don't know my kids." or "You won't want to have to listen to them."
Think about the message you're sending that child. "You are annoying and loud and no one wants you around because you don't know how to act."
How do you expect the child to know how to act appropriately in a public place if they are not allowed to go anywhere with you? A child needs trial and error. They need to test their boundaries. If you want your kid to be well behaved in a waiting room, bring them places with you and help them to learn what is good manners.
It is our job as parents to teach our kids to be polite, respectful and fun to be around. It is so much easier if they can learn these things before their cute wears off. Nothing is worse than an ungrateful, stink faced, awkward preteen glaring at you. Teach your kids please and thank you. How to decline an offer without hurting someones feelings. Teach them never to insult someones cooking. Teach them to wash their hands, clip their finger nails and not pick their nose in public. Sure, they're kids, they will need reminding. But practice makes perfect!
I know it will be hard for me the first time Dario throws a tantrum in a public place. I know this will happen. No matter how good a parent is, this is inevitable. There is a whole website named and dedicated to Reasons My Son is Crying. What really matters is how I react when he has that tantrum in the store. If I match his intensity and lose my cool, then I am the one who will look like an asshole. Then I will teach him that if he wants to really get mom's attention, then all he has to do is scream and cry in a public place. This will lead to more and more tantrums. As hard as it may be, if I can keep smiling as I drag him from the store, we will be okay. He will feel foolish and will learn how to control himself as he grows up.
Life. The minutes may be long but the days are short and the years even shorter. If I can only remember this after an eight hour day of a fussy screaming toddler. I need to remember he won't be that age for long. Tomorrow is new and I may find myself longing for yesterday. Why waste today? I challenge myself to smile and swell with happiness when Dario cries. He is tired and rubs his face and whimpers. This little Fussy Gus won't be this way for long. I will miss this, I know I will.
Don't forget we are lucky to be here today. Make the most of it.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Domestication and More
1. I should be writing. Why am I checking Facebook? There is nothing interesting there. I am tired of Buzzfeed telling me what I think in the form of a list's title. "23 Dogs You're Glad Aren't Yours" and "34 Things You Didn't Know Where in Your Kitchen". No. I know what is in my kitchen. What I don't know is why I'm on Facebook.
This happens. I open the laptop and decide to write. Dario is napping and I have 40 minutes to an hour. The dishes are done and dinner is prepped. Then I'm on Facebook without even realizing it at first and before you know it I hear Little D squirming around in his crib and party's over. No more time to write.
I'll just take this quiz real quick. "What Kind of Pizza Are You?" I really need to know.
-------
And there it is. It has been just about 5 months and 3 weeks since Dario was born and I haven't written much. I have been too busy to write most days. When I do have time, I feel I should be productive or sleep, but I am also feeling disenchanted with the internet right now. Blogs specifically.
I started using Pinterest with the idea of organizing recipes. Most of the links to recipes are from blogs. Blogs are not always good or reliable. You will find a good share of misspellings and errors on this blog along with my other two (Life with Blind Louie and Lanni's Recipe Box). But mistakes in a recipe? That's just mean. If I didn't know the basic fundamentals of cooking and building food out of ingredients to help me decide which recipes I should follow, I could have made many meal fails.
-------
So what are the rules to have a blog? None. The blogs that have pretty layouts with nice text and a good looking authors picture will get attention. Then the photography. It has to be good. Really good. You can just take your photos from the internet. The internet is full of photos! Gorgeous closeups of cookies, stacking in a tower with a piece of string tying a bow around them. There, of course, a glass of milk in the background. Why? Why is that a standard for every housewife's food blog? There has to be a stack of cookies tied up. I have never needed to tie a bunch of cookies.
-------
So I had started my food blog with the idea of organizing my recipes. After becoming frustrated with blogs, I turned to Pinterest which happens to be full of links to food blogs. I need to get out my cook books and dust of my recipe cards. I'm going to be cooking it old school.
-------
2. For five months, I have been staring at another person. He usually stares back. Dario is a baby human. He is a tiny growing man. I am so amazed by him.
It is really so cool to see someone learn to use their body. Literally, my baby does not know the full extent of his amazing body. Every day is learning and experimenting and repeating. Growing and strengthening muscles and trying new things. It is so neat to watch him figure things out on his own and then watch his excitement.
Now, Dario is only five months old so he doesn't know that many baby tricks yet. He just learned to stay sitting up without support. My puppy learned sit by 9 weeks so, is it really that impressive? Yes! His jelly muscles and big head on a floppy neck prevented him from sitting up when he was born. It pretty much prevented him for being able to do anything. Now look at him go! Look at him grow!
-------
3.We've tried solid food. Solid isn't really the correct word for what he ate. We made sweet potato for his first food. I peeled, cubed, steamed and blended the vegetable and mixed in some of the cooking liquid to make it runny enough to pour off the spoon. The reaction was priceless.
-------
I remember, when my cousins oldest boy was a baby, best thing ever was watching him try new food. I got to let him taste lemon for the first time and that was one of the most exciting moments of my life. Maybe of his life too.
-------
4. There are a lot of little things that we take for granted as adults. I know I do. Things like simply picking something up. We see it with our eyes and decide we want it. We reach out our arm and extend our hand and wrap our fingers around it, squeeze and pull it back toward our body. We all had to learn that. Having a baby is reminding me of how far I've come. People can gain this perspective after a debilitating accident. An injury causing you to lose a ability that you've forgotten you even have or need.
It's similar to losing a family member. When someone close to you dies, you remember that we will all die. That life is short and fleeting. You remember what is important. Possessions may seem insignificant. Little arguments you've had will seem silly.
-------
Here it is, my latest blog post. It has taken me over three weeks. Each section was written in a different sitting, on a different day. Each section was interrupted.
Usually I would start typing like this, jumping from subject to subject and this would have become five or six different posts and I would elaborate on each idea. Life doesn't really work like that anymore. I only have a limited time to write. Nap time. I make a cup of tea and get the laptop. I sit down, check facebook, look at a few recipes, read the news, check the weather. Open my blogger and start typing. Spending like 40 minutes just setting up.
I realized if I did not post this, I may never post again. So here it is. I will try and elaborate on certain topics as I intended in future posts. So I numbered topics for easy reference, hopefully this will help organize my thoughts.
This happens. I open the laptop and decide to write. Dario is napping and I have 40 minutes to an hour. The dishes are done and dinner is prepped. Then I'm on Facebook without even realizing it at first and before you know it I hear Little D squirming around in his crib and party's over. No more time to write.
I'll just take this quiz real quick. "What Kind of Pizza Are You?" I really need to know.
-------
And there it is. It has been just about 5 months and 3 weeks since Dario was born and I haven't written much. I have been too busy to write most days. When I do have time, I feel I should be productive or sleep, but I am also feeling disenchanted with the internet right now. Blogs specifically.
I started using Pinterest with the idea of organizing recipes. Most of the links to recipes are from blogs. Blogs are not always good or reliable. You will find a good share of misspellings and errors on this blog along with my other two (Life with Blind Louie and Lanni's Recipe Box). But mistakes in a recipe? That's just mean. If I didn't know the basic fundamentals of cooking and building food out of ingredients to help me decide which recipes I should follow, I could have made many meal fails.
-------
So what are the rules to have a blog? None. The blogs that have pretty layouts with nice text and a good looking authors picture will get attention. Then the photography. It has to be good. Really good. You can just take your photos from the internet. The internet is full of photos! Gorgeous closeups of cookies, stacking in a tower with a piece of string tying a bow around them. There, of course, a glass of milk in the background. Why? Why is that a standard for every housewife's food blog? There has to be a stack of cookies tied up. I have never needed to tie a bunch of cookies.
-------
So I had started my food blog with the idea of organizing my recipes. After becoming frustrated with blogs, I turned to Pinterest which happens to be full of links to food blogs. I need to get out my cook books and dust of my recipe cards. I'm going to be cooking it old school.
-------
2. For five months, I have been staring at another person. He usually stares back. Dario is a baby human. He is a tiny growing man. I am so amazed by him.
It is really so cool to see someone learn to use their body. Literally, my baby does not know the full extent of his amazing body. Every day is learning and experimenting and repeating. Growing and strengthening muscles and trying new things. It is so neat to watch him figure things out on his own and then watch his excitement.
Now, Dario is only five months old so he doesn't know that many baby tricks yet. He just learned to stay sitting up without support. My puppy learned sit by 9 weeks so, is it really that impressive? Yes! His jelly muscles and big head on a floppy neck prevented him from sitting up when he was born. It pretty much prevented him for being able to do anything. Now look at him go! Look at him grow!
-------
3.We've tried solid food. Solid isn't really the correct word for what he ate. We made sweet potato for his first food. I peeled, cubed, steamed and blended the vegetable and mixed in some of the cooking liquid to make it runny enough to pour off the spoon. The reaction was priceless.
-------
I remember, when my cousins oldest boy was a baby, best thing ever was watching him try new food. I got to let him taste lemon for the first time and that was one of the most exciting moments of my life. Maybe of his life too.
-------
4. There are a lot of little things that we take for granted as adults. I know I do. Things like simply picking something up. We see it with our eyes and decide we want it. We reach out our arm and extend our hand and wrap our fingers around it, squeeze and pull it back toward our body. We all had to learn that. Having a baby is reminding me of how far I've come. People can gain this perspective after a debilitating accident. An injury causing you to lose a ability that you've forgotten you even have or need.
It's similar to losing a family member. When someone close to you dies, you remember that we will all die. That life is short and fleeting. You remember what is important. Possessions may seem insignificant. Little arguments you've had will seem silly.
-------
Here it is, my latest blog post. It has taken me over three weeks. Each section was written in a different sitting, on a different day. Each section was interrupted.
Usually I would start typing like this, jumping from subject to subject and this would have become five or six different posts and I would elaborate on each idea. Life doesn't really work like that anymore. I only have a limited time to write. Nap time. I make a cup of tea and get the laptop. I sit down, check facebook, look at a few recipes, read the news, check the weather. Open my blogger and start typing. Spending like 40 minutes just setting up.
I realized if I did not post this, I may never post again. So here it is. I will try and elaborate on certain topics as I intended in future posts. So I numbered topics for easy reference, hopefully this will help organize my thoughts.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
And Then There Was Dario
We had a baby. It was awesome. I did it! No drugs! I remember every detail. I got super high, naturally. The body is an amazing thing. I am still impressed when I think about it.
After giving birth, there I was, in a hospital with my husband and our new son. My mom headed out right after he was born to give us time to bond and rest. The nurses cleaned up and moved out. It was just us, our little family. Paul, Lanni and Dario. Starting our life together.
So much had changed with my body in such a short time. My big hard belly was gone. I had lost a lot of blood. I had a third degree tear and a bunch of stitches. I did not know what this meant at the time and I really didn't care. I had this beautiful baby in my arms!
I tried to breast feed for the first time not long after he was born. He got it right away. I felt awkward trying to find a comfortable position to hold him. I also felt like I was suffocating him with my giant boob. The nurse helped and reassured me. My husband just kept reminding me that I needed to "push the milk out" and he would flex his arms and chest and make grunting sounds. I love him because he can always make me laugh, but I'm pretty sure that's not how that works.
A strange part about nursing initially was that it caused more contractions. I really didn't remember reading about that. Nursing makes your body make oxytocin, it makes you feel good, bond with your baby and it contracts your uterus to help it shrink back down to size. Very interesting how it all works.
Just after the little guy latched on I was suddenly ravenously hungry and super thirsty. I figure this is where I would be tempted to eat my young if he wasn't so cute and I wasn't all loopy from the hormones. The nurse seemed to know that I would be hungry and brought me whatever she could find since the kitchen was already closed. A half a sandwich, a small bag of pretzels, a banana, a cookie and some juice. She also filled my water jug with the best ice water I had ever had. I hadn't eaten for over 14 hours, that was a super long time for a pregnant lady.
I slept, a little, when the baby slept. A nurse came in the room every hour to check the babies temperature and listen to his heartbeat. I tried nursing every two hours. Dario didn't hardly cry at all that first night. He fussed a little and I would talk to him and he would settle right back down.
We stayed another day and night in the hospital and checked out in the morning. I guess it's called discharge when you leave the hospital, not check out time, but whatever. It wasn't like a regular hospital experience. It wasn't like I was in the ER or had some kind of traumatic injury or surgery. I've decided I'll call it check out time.
The ride home from the hospital was surreal. I rode in the back with Dario. He looked so little in the car seat. His body was mush and he couldn't hold his head back at all. I found myself holding his head the whole drive home, just staring at him. Many hours of just staring at him have followed, and many more are still to come I'm sure.
In my upcoming posts, I will try to go week by week. I am catching up from a lack of writing. For six weeks I have only taken notes. So many changes are happening everyday. I hope to note them here for us to look back on someday. I also hope that my friends and family that aren't close by will enjoy reading, and if someone stumbles on this that has a young child they may take something from it.
After giving birth, there I was, in a hospital with my husband and our new son. My mom headed out right after he was born to give us time to bond and rest. The nurses cleaned up and moved out. It was just us, our little family. Paul, Lanni and Dario. Starting our life together.
So much had changed with my body in such a short time. My big hard belly was gone. I had lost a lot of blood. I had a third degree tear and a bunch of stitches. I did not know what this meant at the time and I really didn't care. I had this beautiful baby in my arms!
I tried to breast feed for the first time not long after he was born. He got it right away. I felt awkward trying to find a comfortable position to hold him. I also felt like I was suffocating him with my giant boob. The nurse helped and reassured me. My husband just kept reminding me that I needed to "push the milk out" and he would flex his arms and chest and make grunting sounds. I love him because he can always make me laugh, but I'm pretty sure that's not how that works.
A strange part about nursing initially was that it caused more contractions. I really didn't remember reading about that. Nursing makes your body make oxytocin, it makes you feel good, bond with your baby and it contracts your uterus to help it shrink back down to size. Very interesting how it all works.
Just after the little guy latched on I was suddenly ravenously hungry and super thirsty. I figure this is where I would be tempted to eat my young if he wasn't so cute and I wasn't all loopy from the hormones. The nurse seemed to know that I would be hungry and brought me whatever she could find since the kitchen was already closed. A half a sandwich, a small bag of pretzels, a banana, a cookie and some juice. She also filled my water jug with the best ice water I had ever had. I hadn't eaten for over 14 hours, that was a super long time for a pregnant lady.
I slept, a little, when the baby slept. A nurse came in the room every hour to check the babies temperature and listen to his heartbeat. I tried nursing every two hours. Dario didn't hardly cry at all that first night. He fussed a little and I would talk to him and he would settle right back down.
We stayed another day and night in the hospital and checked out in the morning. I guess it's called discharge when you leave the hospital, not check out time, but whatever. It wasn't like a regular hospital experience. It wasn't like I was in the ER or had some kind of traumatic injury or surgery. I've decided I'll call it check out time.
The ride home from the hospital was surreal. I rode in the back with Dario. He looked so little in the car seat. His body was mush and he couldn't hold his head back at all. I found myself holding his head the whole drive home, just staring at him. Many hours of just staring at him have followed, and many more are still to come I'm sure.
In my upcoming posts, I will try to go week by week. I am catching up from a lack of writing. For six weeks I have only taken notes. So many changes are happening everyday. I hope to note them here for us to look back on someday. I also hope that my friends and family that aren't close by will enjoy reading, and if someone stumbles on this that has a young child they may take something from it.
 |
| Me and Dario, 10/21/2013, 1 day old. |
Monday, December 2, 2013
How to Lose 15 lbs in 12 Hours! (Part 2)
We kept on with the same after the doctor left. I would have a
contraction every few minutes where I would pause and breathe and focus
on relaxing. Time went by, nurses came and went. They checked my blood
pressure and made sure the babies heart rate was good and staying steady
through my contractions. Everything was fine. My doctor said I didn't
need to be hooked up to the fetal monitors and that they could check his
heartbeat intermittently. When the nurse came in I told her that and
she laughed at me. This was the only nurse that I was not happy with.
Everyone else there was amazing.
She went and talked to my doctor and confirmed what I had said. Apparently there is some sort of hospital regulation that you have to check the vitals every 20 minutes or something. So they found some monitors that were wireless to hook me to where I could still move around. The monitors would not stay in place and the not-so-great nurse was getting frustrated trying to find the heartbeat. I knew we were fine and I was trying, and doing well, not letting that nurses frustration and worry rub off on me.
At 2:00 or so my doctor came back and checked me. I was 8cm. She was pleased with the progress and thought that it wouldn't be long until the baby was here. What a relief. Because I was handling the contractions so well, I started to doubt that they were strong enough to make any progress. That was just a fleeting thought and I put it out of my mind, but it was still great to hear the doctors update and know we were getting closer to meeting our baby.
I paced, I sat on the yoga ball, I stretched, I sat on the couch with my husband. We made jokes, laughed, watched Futurama on TV, took pictures. I got a back rub anytime I asked. I was pretty fun. Awesome. The most fun vacation in the most expensive hotel I've ever been to.
It was around five or six o'clock. I was starting to get tired but I was too excited to really nap. My doctor came again and checked me. I was still 8cm. How disappointing. My doctor was concerned about my stalled progress. She said she was surprised I wasn't budging because I was doing everything 'right', walking around, bouncing on the yoga ball, staying upright. She suggested Pitocin. I was double disappointed. I had really not wanted Pitocin. I had made it this far with no pain meds. Can we wait, what should I do?
I agreed the Pitocin after my doctor explained, we decided we would start at the lowest dose possible and give that a while and see what happens. There it was, an annoying nurse, medical intervention. If I had written out a meticulous birth plan and set myself up with unrealistic expectations this is where I would have been super disappointed. The wind would have been knocked out of me. But I didn't. I knew this was okay. This was my story, this was the story of my sons birth. Here we go.
It didn't take long for the Pitocin to start changing my contractions. These were much more intense. Legs shaking, stomach turning. I swore, I called to Jesus, I asked for my mommy. At 7pm there was a shift change and the nurse that was bugging me all day was leaving. Thank God. With these new more intense contractions it would be more difficult to deal with her. The new nurse walked in and knew just what to do. She immediately knew I was close. My doctor checked and I was about 9 1/2cm dilated now. They said I could try to push. First I was on my hands and knees. I was rocking back and forth. Then everything started whirling by me.
More nurses came in. The doctor started to change into her scrubs. The nurse told her to hurry up because the baby was coming. My husband was by my side putting cold towels on my forehead and the back of my neck. I started making hilarious jokes. I said 'Oh, this is when you stop caring if everyone sees you naked.' and 'I'm pretty sure I'm just going to shit all over everyone.' Paul said "Go ahead and shit honey, they don't care, they're getting paid for this."
"Fuck, shit, holy mother of God, Jesus Christ, what the fuck, no No NO!"
Pushing. I thought I had been on the bed pushing only for a few minutes. It's like taking LSD. It's one crazy trip. Sights, sounds, colors, smells, sensations. Everything was there but disjointed and messy. Pushing was hard. I felt out of shape. I was sure I was doing it wrong and I was just going to poop. The doctor reassured me that it was the baby.
I pushed again. I heard someone say "There's the head!". I reached down and felt my baby's head, it was so warm. I felt he had hair. Just the very top of his head was out. I heard my doctor say something had dropped and she told a nurse to call pediatrics. Next thing I know there are two men in the room and more nurses. I saw a scalpel or scissors or some sharp object and didn't care. That would have been on my birth plan: no episiotomy. I would rather tear on my own if I've got to.
Then my doctor says "One more push and you'll meet your baby". I heard my husband gasp. I kept asking him if he was okay. Then came the contraction. I pulled my legs back, put my chin to my chest and gave it all I had left. I felt his head come out, shoulders and then someone grabbed him and put him up on my chest. Two nurses were toweling him off. He was full size! Good looking. A real baby. Oh. My. God. That just happened.
And then he cried. Time stopped. All pain went away. I was just my husband and I looking at our child. It was exhilarating. The next thing I remembered was the doctor telling me she was giving me a local anesthetic to numb me a little while she stitched me up. I felt it. I felt the injection. I felt the pulling. I felt the stitches run through. The whole area wasn't numb but I didn't even care. I was holding my baby, and I was in love with him!!!
It took a long time for the stitches. They took the baby over to a warming table and measured him and checked over everything. My mom and my husband stood around him. He was rated 9 out of 10 on the APGAR scale. He was 8lbs 11oz and 21 1/4 inches long. He was perfect. PERFECT!!! There has never been a better baby in all of human history. Now I know what every mother has felt. It truely is amazing.
She went and talked to my doctor and confirmed what I had said. Apparently there is some sort of hospital regulation that you have to check the vitals every 20 minutes or something. So they found some monitors that were wireless to hook me to where I could still move around. The monitors would not stay in place and the not-so-great nurse was getting frustrated trying to find the heartbeat. I knew we were fine and I was trying, and doing well, not letting that nurses frustration and worry rub off on me.
At 2:00 or so my doctor came back and checked me. I was 8cm. She was pleased with the progress and thought that it wouldn't be long until the baby was here. What a relief. Because I was handling the contractions so well, I started to doubt that they were strong enough to make any progress. That was just a fleeting thought and I put it out of my mind, but it was still great to hear the doctors update and know we were getting closer to meeting our baby.
I paced, I sat on the yoga ball, I stretched, I sat on the couch with my husband. We made jokes, laughed, watched Futurama on TV, took pictures. I got a back rub anytime I asked. I was pretty fun. Awesome. The most fun vacation in the most expensive hotel I've ever been to.
It was around five or six o'clock. I was starting to get tired but I was too excited to really nap. My doctor came again and checked me. I was still 8cm. How disappointing. My doctor was concerned about my stalled progress. She said she was surprised I wasn't budging because I was doing everything 'right', walking around, bouncing on the yoga ball, staying upright. She suggested Pitocin. I was double disappointed. I had really not wanted Pitocin. I had made it this far with no pain meds. Can we wait, what should I do?
I agreed the Pitocin after my doctor explained, we decided we would start at the lowest dose possible and give that a while and see what happens. There it was, an annoying nurse, medical intervention. If I had written out a meticulous birth plan and set myself up with unrealistic expectations this is where I would have been super disappointed. The wind would have been knocked out of me. But I didn't. I knew this was okay. This was my story, this was the story of my sons birth. Here we go.
It didn't take long for the Pitocin to start changing my contractions. These were much more intense. Legs shaking, stomach turning. I swore, I called to Jesus, I asked for my mommy. At 7pm there was a shift change and the nurse that was bugging me all day was leaving. Thank God. With these new more intense contractions it would be more difficult to deal with her. The new nurse walked in and knew just what to do. She immediately knew I was close. My doctor checked and I was about 9 1/2cm dilated now. They said I could try to push. First I was on my hands and knees. I was rocking back and forth. Then everything started whirling by me.
More nurses came in. The doctor started to change into her scrubs. The nurse told her to hurry up because the baby was coming. My husband was by my side putting cold towels on my forehead and the back of my neck. I started making hilarious jokes. I said 'Oh, this is when you stop caring if everyone sees you naked.' and 'I'm pretty sure I'm just going to shit all over everyone.' Paul said "Go ahead and shit honey, they don't care, they're getting paid for this."
"Fuck, shit, holy mother of God, Jesus Christ, what the fuck, no No NO!"
Pushing. I thought I had been on the bed pushing only for a few minutes. It's like taking LSD. It's one crazy trip. Sights, sounds, colors, smells, sensations. Everything was there but disjointed and messy. Pushing was hard. I felt out of shape. I was sure I was doing it wrong and I was just going to poop. The doctor reassured me that it was the baby.
I pushed again. I heard someone say "There's the head!". I reached down and felt my baby's head, it was so warm. I felt he had hair. Just the very top of his head was out. I heard my doctor say something had dropped and she told a nurse to call pediatrics. Next thing I know there are two men in the room and more nurses. I saw a scalpel or scissors or some sharp object and didn't care. That would have been on my birth plan: no episiotomy. I would rather tear on my own if I've got to.
Then my doctor says "One more push and you'll meet your baby". I heard my husband gasp. I kept asking him if he was okay. Then came the contraction. I pulled my legs back, put my chin to my chest and gave it all I had left. I felt his head come out, shoulders and then someone grabbed him and put him up on my chest. Two nurses were toweling him off. He was full size! Good looking. A real baby. Oh. My. God. That just happened.
And then he cried. Time stopped. All pain went away. I was just my husband and I looking at our child. It was exhilarating. The next thing I remembered was the doctor telling me she was giving me a local anesthetic to numb me a little while she stitched me up. I felt it. I felt the injection. I felt the pulling. I felt the stitches run through. The whole area wasn't numb but I didn't even care. I was holding my baby, and I was in love with him!!!
It took a long time for the stitches. They took the baby over to a warming table and measured him and checked over everything. My mom and my husband stood around him. He was rated 9 out of 10 on the APGAR scale. He was 8lbs 11oz and 21 1/4 inches long. He was perfect. PERFECT!!! There has never been a better baby in all of human history. Now I know what every mother has felt. It truely is amazing.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
How to Lose 15lbs in 12 Hours! (Part 1)
Well, the inevitable happened. The day came. The moment we've all been waiting for. A tiny human was born. My baby vacated my magic uterus. He is born. World, this is Dario. Dario, World.
Right now he is sleeping. If that isn't happening he is eating or having his diaper changed. There are small amounts of time where we visit and I talk to him and he looks at me with big dark blue-grey bloodshot eyes and makes funny faces. I am completely, utterly, obsessively in love.
How did it happen? There was so much time I spent just thinking about all the different ways I could bring him into this world. No matter how much I thought about it, no matter how much I wondered or how many stories I read, nothing could prepare me for the actual day.
It was Saturday night. We went to bed early. Paul wasn't feeling well, he had just come down with a cold. We were both asleep by 8:30 or so. I woke up to use the bathroom a couple of times. Paul woke up with me at about 2:30am. He took some Tylenol and drank some water. His cold was really manifesting itself. It's strange because he's rarely sick. He has only had a cold one, maybe two other times since we met. We joked about how it wasn't convenient to be sick when we were so close to expecting the baby to arrive. Then we talked about how we would need to make a plan to be induced at our appointment on Thursday since nothing was happening. I got up to use the bathroom before we both drifted back to sleep. I felt something funny in my belly and when I got to the bathroom I thought I had already started to pee. Or was it?
Sure, I thought I was a little leaky. No big deal. The baby was napping on my bladder again and he was really running out of room. I could only hold a few tablespoons of urine at a time it seemed. I'm bound to accidentally squeeze some out, right? I went back to bed. I woke up again at about 6:30am. I was wet. I knew I did not wet the bed. I was dreaming of having contractions and doing a great job staying calm and relaxed through each one. I was well rested after about 10 hours of sleep. I knew that my water had broken. It was a slow leak, not the tsunami you see on the movies, but I knew what it was. Just after standing up I started to have some light contractions. This is it. It is? I woke up Paul.
I told him softly that I thought my water had broken, and that I needed to call the childbirth center to see what we needed to do. I told him to take a shower and to get the hospital bag I had packed along with the diaper bag ready. I got dressed, ate a bagel and cream cheese, fed the dogs and called my mom. I told her we'd call her if we were admitted to the hospital and she could come down if she wanted to. I was sitting on a chair on my back porch when I realised I was totally stalling. I didn't really want to go to the hospital. I had hoped that my labor would start and get strong without my water breaking so I could spend all my early labor at home. Oh well, I cannot choose. I just have to go in and see what will happen.
I went back inside and realised I hadn't even called the child birth center yet to tell them we were coming. I called and they said they could check the fluid to see if it was my water and they'd go from there. We put our things in the car and left the house around 7:30am. We got the the hospital before 8am and were in a room talking with a nurse shortly after. She checked and said it was, of course, that my water had broken. They hooked me up to the monitors and saw I was having regular contractions and they were only about 3 minutes apart. She went and called my doctor.
The nurse came back in the room and said she'd called the doc and told her my water had broken, I was having regular contractions that looked strong on the machine but that I couldn't feel them. Couldn't feel them? What? I asked. She said, since I was calm and still able to talk with her that I must not be feeling them. I assured her that I was definitely feeling it, I was just choosing to stay calm and focused. She was surprised and seemed skeptical and took us to a labor and delivery room to get settled. My doctor would be there soon to check me. We called my mom.
When my doctor got there it was just before 11am. I was dealing really well with the contractions. Paul, my mom and I were talking and laughing and just wasting time while we waited. The doc checked and said I was already 6cm dilated. Nice. Everyone was shocked that I was that far along and I wasn't complaining or crying or asking for drugs. This was going to be a piece of cake.
Ha!
To Be Continued...
Right now he is sleeping. If that isn't happening he is eating or having his diaper changed. There are small amounts of time where we visit and I talk to him and he looks at me with big dark blue-grey bloodshot eyes and makes funny faces. I am completely, utterly, obsessively in love.
How did it happen? There was so much time I spent just thinking about all the different ways I could bring him into this world. No matter how much I thought about it, no matter how much I wondered or how many stories I read, nothing could prepare me for the actual day.
It was Saturday night. We went to bed early. Paul wasn't feeling well, he had just come down with a cold. We were both asleep by 8:30 or so. I woke up to use the bathroom a couple of times. Paul woke up with me at about 2:30am. He took some Tylenol and drank some water. His cold was really manifesting itself. It's strange because he's rarely sick. He has only had a cold one, maybe two other times since we met. We joked about how it wasn't convenient to be sick when we were so close to expecting the baby to arrive. Then we talked about how we would need to make a plan to be induced at our appointment on Thursday since nothing was happening. I got up to use the bathroom before we both drifted back to sleep. I felt something funny in my belly and when I got to the bathroom I thought I had already started to pee. Or was it?
Sure, I thought I was a little leaky. No big deal. The baby was napping on my bladder again and he was really running out of room. I could only hold a few tablespoons of urine at a time it seemed. I'm bound to accidentally squeeze some out, right? I went back to bed. I woke up again at about 6:30am. I was wet. I knew I did not wet the bed. I was dreaming of having contractions and doing a great job staying calm and relaxed through each one. I was well rested after about 10 hours of sleep. I knew that my water had broken. It was a slow leak, not the tsunami you see on the movies, but I knew what it was. Just after standing up I started to have some light contractions. This is it. It is? I woke up Paul.
I told him softly that I thought my water had broken, and that I needed to call the childbirth center to see what we needed to do. I told him to take a shower and to get the hospital bag I had packed along with the diaper bag ready. I got dressed, ate a bagel and cream cheese, fed the dogs and called my mom. I told her we'd call her if we were admitted to the hospital and she could come down if she wanted to. I was sitting on a chair on my back porch when I realised I was totally stalling. I didn't really want to go to the hospital. I had hoped that my labor would start and get strong without my water breaking so I could spend all my early labor at home. Oh well, I cannot choose. I just have to go in and see what will happen.
I went back inside and realised I hadn't even called the child birth center yet to tell them we were coming. I called and they said they could check the fluid to see if it was my water and they'd go from there. We put our things in the car and left the house around 7:30am. We got the the hospital before 8am and were in a room talking with a nurse shortly after. She checked and said it was, of course, that my water had broken. They hooked me up to the monitors and saw I was having regular contractions and they were only about 3 minutes apart. She went and called my doctor.
The nurse came back in the room and said she'd called the doc and told her my water had broken, I was having regular contractions that looked strong on the machine but that I couldn't feel them. Couldn't feel them? What? I asked. She said, since I was calm and still able to talk with her that I must not be feeling them. I assured her that I was definitely feeling it, I was just choosing to stay calm and focused. She was surprised and seemed skeptical and took us to a labor and delivery room to get settled. My doctor would be there soon to check me. We called my mom.
When my doctor got there it was just before 11am. I was dealing really well with the contractions. Paul, my mom and I were talking and laughing and just wasting time while we waited. The doc checked and said I was already 6cm dilated. Nice. Everyone was shocked that I was that far along and I wasn't complaining or crying or asking for drugs. This was going to be a piece of cake.
Ha!
To Be Continued...
Friday, October 18, 2013
Saying Goodbye to My Fetus and Hello to My Baby
 |
| From our birth announcement |
How do they come up with that due date anyway? The doctor calculated from the first day of my last menstrual period 40 weeks out, and that is the date. There are other factors. That date is assuming that I have a 'normal' 28 day cycle. If it's longer than 28 days then the delivery date could be later. When I had my first ultrasound at about 12 weeks the tech said she'd pick my due date for October 19th. They calculate that date by the measurements they take of the baby. My next ultrasound at 20 weeks, the same tech said with these new measurements she would say October 18th.
Here we are, it is October 18th. Maybe today? Maybe tomorrow? Everyone is so anxious. People keep calling, writing, texting. Anything? Anything yet? How about now? Ahhh! It's hard for me, I feel good. Yes I am having some cramping and back pain on and off. I do know I am not currently in active labor and I don't know when this will happen.
This is a struggle for me mentally. On one hand, I want to meet this person that has grown inside of my body. My baby, my son. I want my husband to meet his son. I see how excited he is and I know it will be amazing to see him with this baby. He is not a 'baby guy' but he is already head over heels in love with his son. I want to see what our baby looks like, smells like, how much he weighs, what his cry sounds like. I want to try breastfeeding, changing his diaper, laying him down for bed in his crib. I want to have our dogs meet him. I want to see their reactions. I want to be a mother. I want to make my mother a grandmother. So many positives, so much excitement. So much unknown!
On the other hand, in the beginning I had to really spend a lot of energy deciding to be happy while pregnant. I have tried to enjoy each day, each strange symptom and each new change to my body because I know it is temporary. If I whined and complained the whole time, what a waste it would be! I have really grown comfortable with my baby inside my magic uterus. Felling his movements, his kicks. I know the times of the day when he will be up and active. I start to anticipate his movements and then, there he is. I like getting his hiccups with him. I feel them, just the same motion as when I have them myself, only they are inside my belly and not in my chest and throat. And those hiccups are so tiny and cute. I know when I feel a left foot, right foot a hand or a head. I know when he's sticking his butt out really far and my belly bulges to one side or the other. I know I will miss that. I will miss being able to take him everywhere with me, hands free. Being about to take him to work with me. I've known all along this is temporary, but now that it's time, it is almost sad to let it go.
When our son is born, his infancy will be so temporary. The time when he will be essentially a tiny fetus outside of the womb will last a matter of weeks. Then he will be cooing and smiling and growing bigger. Soon he will be teething, sitting up, standing then walking. Before we know it he will be asking for the keys to the flying car or use of our teleportation machine or whatever kind of transportation we will have in the future. Every moment we have is temporary. Every stage of life is fleeting. We have to savor each moment, even the difficult ones.
I think part of me going into labor needs to be me mourning the loss of my fetus and celebrating the birth of my baby. Mourning the loss of my life with my husband as we know it and celebrating the start of our family. I need to tell him I am ready for him to come out and start the next chapter of his life with us. I need to be okay with sharing my baby with the rest of the world. There is no going back. Right now, I need to come to terms with getting ready to enjoy this birthing experience. This transition to moving him outside of my body. Sure there will be pain they say. There will be blood and gore and hospitals. I will not be scared. I will enjoy every moment of it. This will be the last big party for my fetus and the first big party for our babies birthday.
I'll get out my pointy party hat, streamers and noise makers. I am ready for this. Lets go.
40 Week Doctors Appointment
Our doctors appointment yesterday went
well. I am progressing. I am now 2cm dilated and 80% effaced. (Last week
I was 1cm dilated and 50% effaced). My doctor seems excited. She said that I am moving along quite well. The more effaced that I am when I go into labor the easier it will be.
My doc and I talk about when it will be time to go to the hospital at almost every appointment. She says the contractions should be about 1 minute in length and about 5 minutes apart. They should hold that pattern for about an hour before we go to the hospital. She said the longer I can labor at home the better. She did say however, that those contractions need to be very strong, not just consistent for that to be active labor. She told us that when I start to go, 'oh, okay. I see why people talk about how painful this is." or "Now I get why ladies choose to get an epidural!" then it is time and we should be on the way. A rule of thumb is that if you have to ask yourself if you are in active labor, you are not. You will know.
Our doctor has been doing this a long time. Longer than I have been alive. She told me that nothing can describe the feeling I will have. She had seen a ton of babies born and knew what to expect and seen first hand what women go through and she said she was still surprised when she went into labor with her first born. That prompted me to ask her how many babies she thought she'd delivered. She was quiet for a moment and thought about it. "About 1,000." she said. Wow, how amazing. She has seen it all I am sure. Every style of delivery from emergencies to text book. C Sections, forceps, vacuum, medicated, unmedicated and all the rest I don't even know about.
I feel so lucky to have her on our side. To have known her since I was a kid. To have had her take care of me anytime I was sick growing up. To have had her take care of my mother all these years. and now have her here at this most important time of my life and she will be there for our baby. I feel so lucky to feel so comfortable with our doctor. To have someone so well trained and certified, that is also so intuitive and caring and has so much real world, hands on experience. We are lucky beyond words.
My doc and I talk about when it will be time to go to the hospital at almost every appointment. She says the contractions should be about 1 minute in length and about 5 minutes apart. They should hold that pattern for about an hour before we go to the hospital. She said the longer I can labor at home the better. She did say however, that those contractions need to be very strong, not just consistent for that to be active labor. She told us that when I start to go, 'oh, okay. I see why people talk about how painful this is." or "Now I get why ladies choose to get an epidural!" then it is time and we should be on the way. A rule of thumb is that if you have to ask yourself if you are in active labor, you are not. You will know.
Our doctor has been doing this a long time. Longer than I have been alive. She told me that nothing can describe the feeling I will have. She had seen a ton of babies born and knew what to expect and seen first hand what women go through and she said she was still surprised when she went into labor with her first born. That prompted me to ask her how many babies she thought she'd delivered. She was quiet for a moment and thought about it. "About 1,000." she said. Wow, how amazing. She has seen it all I am sure. Every style of delivery from emergencies to text book. C Sections, forceps, vacuum, medicated, unmedicated and all the rest I don't even know about.
I feel so lucky to have her on our side. To have known her since I was a kid. To have had her take care of me anytime I was sick growing up. To have had her take care of my mother all these years. and now have her here at this most important time of my life and she will be there for our baby. I feel so lucky to feel so comfortable with our doctor. To have someone so well trained and certified, that is also so intuitive and caring and has so much real world, hands on experience. We are lucky beyond words.
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