Monday, January 30, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
'Da Bod
So one of my biggest questions during pregnancy was how in the good heavens was my body going to look after the baby arrived? I mean, hard to picture going from this:
To this:
Without having some worrisome repercussions.
I must say that overall I've been pleasantly surprised. At the end of my pregnancy I had gained about 33lbs, with an additional 7-8lbs that I gained during the infertility process (I was slightly underweight when we started trying to get pregnant, and this can affect your fertility, so they suggested I gain 10lbs or so). All in all, I was hoping to lose about 40lbs after River arrived, and at this point (about a month post-birth), I only have 10lbs or so to go. Things I have to thank for this include:
1. No longer being inhabited by a 7lbs creature that causes me to retain fluids like some sort of man-made reservoir.
2. Breastfeeding a baby who may or may not be on his way to a life of obesity based on how much he currently eats. Breastfeeding is like being hooked up to a 24 hour a day liposuction machine. Now if I splurge and have some ice cream, I know I can just stick River on ol' leftie or rightie and suck those calories right out.
3. Staying in shape before/during my pregnancy. I really do think this made a huge difference in how quickly my body has bounced back - not only in weight/looks, but also how I feel. I was already back to working out 3 weeks after the baby was born, and it felt great.
4. Total loss of appetite. This one is kind of weird, because everything I've heard and read talks about how ravenous you get during breastfeeding, since it burns so many extra calories. For some reason, though, I have had zero appetite ever since the baby was born. This one concerns me a little because I know my nutrition is key to ensuring that River gets what he needs through my milk, so I just need to be better about reminding myself to eat regularly and to eat more than a fat free strawberry Jello (but that being said, those Jellos are killer good.)
So, there's the Niel body conscious update. I'm sure you'll all sleep better now that you don't have to lie awake, plagued by unanswered questions as to the state of my mid-section post-baby. Annnnnnd, you're welcome.
To this:
Without having some worrisome repercussions.
I must say that overall I've been pleasantly surprised. At the end of my pregnancy I had gained about 33lbs, with an additional 7-8lbs that I gained during the infertility process (I was slightly underweight when we started trying to get pregnant, and this can affect your fertility, so they suggested I gain 10lbs or so). All in all, I was hoping to lose about 40lbs after River arrived, and at this point (about a month post-birth), I only have 10lbs or so to go. Things I have to thank for this include:
1. No longer being inhabited by a 7lbs creature that causes me to retain fluids like some sort of man-made reservoir.
2. Breastfeeding a baby who may or may not be on his way to a life of obesity based on how much he currently eats. Breastfeeding is like being hooked up to a 24 hour a day liposuction machine. Now if I splurge and have some ice cream, I know I can just stick River on ol' leftie or rightie and suck those calories right out.
3. Staying in shape before/during my pregnancy. I really do think this made a huge difference in how quickly my body has bounced back - not only in weight/looks, but also how I feel. I was already back to working out 3 weeks after the baby was born, and it felt great.
4. Total loss of appetite. This one is kind of weird, because everything I've heard and read talks about how ravenous you get during breastfeeding, since it burns so many extra calories. For some reason, though, I have had zero appetite ever since the baby was born. This one concerns me a little because I know my nutrition is key to ensuring that River gets what he needs through my milk, so I just need to be better about reminding myself to eat regularly and to eat more than a fat free strawberry Jello (but that being said, those Jellos are killer good.)
So, there's the Niel body conscious update. I'm sure you'll all sleep better now that you don't have to lie awake, plagued by unanswered questions as to the state of my mid-section post-baby. Annnnnnd, you're welcome.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
The Daddy Way
So there's no denying that the boy loves his Mommy. I am the holder of the deliciouso le leche, you know. But there's also those special Daddy/Son connections that are starting to come out.
Exhibit A:
Exhibit B:
River (strangely enough) loves Nick's singing. Nick scoops up the baby, puts in his earbuds, starts up his "baby playlist" (which does not consist of lullaby's, but "Proud to be an American", "Black or White" by Michael Jackson, a variety of country ballads, etc.), and does this bizarre shuffle step, off-beat walk around the house while singing along to the music at the top of his lungs. If you've ever heard Nick sing, it's needless for me to say that this singing is horrifically off-key, off-tempo, off-(insert any word related to music here). But by god the child eats it up. He stares at Nick's face, shuts his little scream hole, and lies there quietly either in enjoyment, embarrassment of his father, or complete god forsaken terror. Point is, he's quiet and happy during this little 'Daddy concerts'.
Exhibit C:
Nick gives River 'lessons' on cleaning the house. Every weekend, Nick takes the baby around while he cleans, and narrates a running explanation of how to do each job correctly. Last weekend River was introduced to the subtle nuances of vacuuming, taking out the trash, and cleaning the kitchen. I drew the line at teaching him the 'correct' way to load the dishwasher - my baby isn't ready for that extreme level of Daddy neurosis yet.
Exhibit D:
Exhibit A:
Exhibit B:
River (strangely enough) loves Nick's singing. Nick scoops up the baby, puts in his earbuds, starts up his "baby playlist" (which does not consist of lullaby's, but "Proud to be an American", "Black or White" by Michael Jackson, a variety of country ballads, etc.), and does this bizarre shuffle step, off-beat walk around the house while singing along to the music at the top of his lungs. If you've ever heard Nick sing, it's needless for me to say that this singing is horrifically off-key, off-tempo, off-(insert any word related to music here). But by god the child eats it up. He stares at Nick's face, shuts his little scream hole, and lies there quietly either in enjoyment, embarrassment of his father, or complete god forsaken terror. Point is, he's quiet and happy during this little 'Daddy concerts'.
Exhibit C:
Nick gives River 'lessons' on cleaning the house. Every weekend, Nick takes the baby around while he cleans, and narrates a running explanation of how to do each job correctly. Last weekend River was introduced to the subtle nuances of vacuuming, taking out the trash, and cleaning the kitchen. I drew the line at teaching him the 'correct' way to load the dishwasher - my baby isn't ready for that extreme level of Daddy neurosis yet.
Exhibit D:
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Meet the Kid
Why, hello there.
3 Weeks Old
What I Like:
- Boobies. Definitely a boob man.
- Car rides
- Binkies (also known as 'pacies', ' noobies', 'cry hole plugs')
- Being held. All. The. Time.
- Daddy's off-key singing
- Loud noises like the vaccum and hair dryer
- Sleeping on Mommy or in my carseat
- My gas drops...Delicious!
- Bath time - as long as a warm washcloth is on my body at all times
- Did I mentioned boobs?
What I hate:
- Diapy changes. I will scream like a murder is in progress.
- My co-sleeper (unless I'm in my carseat in the cosleeper)
- Being put down (god forbid)
- Tight swaddling (guess 10 months of cramped quarters was enough...)
- Lotion
- Gas bubbles
- Not having boobies.
Things Mommy and Daddy have learned:
- Small baby weinees still have far reaching pee-stream capabilities
- The crying baby always win. Don't try to fight it. Just do whatever he wants.
- Mommy is a comfort feeder. Crying? Feed him. Sleepy? Feed him. Yawning? Cooing? Sleeping? Feed him. Can't imagine why he not only regained his birth weight but also packed on another full pound within 2 weeks of birth...
- When I get scared I throw up ghetto hands. Cause I'm hood like that.
- I will sleep in my carseat, but only until 4am. After 4am I expect to sleep on Mommy. No exceptions. If you want to question this, please refer to the second bullet point.
- Daddy is a terrible singer, but by god that terrible singing is some sort of baby calming magic.
- Baby fingernails are SHARP, and cutting baby fingernails is like micro-surgery
- Burping the baby at 2am is a hassle, but having spit-up running down your cleavage at 2:30am is even more of a hassle.
What I Like:
- Boobies. Definitely a boob man.
- Car rides
- Binkies (also known as 'pacies', ' noobies', 'cry hole plugs')
- Being held. All. The. Time.
- Daddy's off-key singing
- Loud noises like the vaccum and hair dryer
- Sleeping on Mommy or in my carseat
- My gas drops...Delicious!
- Bath time - as long as a warm washcloth is on my body at all times
- Did I mentioned boobs?
What I hate:
- Diapy changes. I will scream like a murder is in progress.
- My co-sleeper (unless I'm in my carseat in the cosleeper)
- Being put down (god forbid)
- Tight swaddling (guess 10 months of cramped quarters was enough...)
- Lotion
- Gas bubbles
- Not having boobies.
Things Mommy and Daddy have learned:
- Small baby weinees still have far reaching pee-stream capabilities
- The crying baby always win. Don't try to fight it. Just do whatever he wants.
- Mommy is a comfort feeder. Crying? Feed him. Sleepy? Feed him. Yawning? Cooing? Sleeping? Feed him. Can't imagine why he not only regained his birth weight but also packed on another full pound within 2 weeks of birth...
- When I get scared I throw up ghetto hands. Cause I'm hood like that.
- I will sleep in my carseat, but only until 4am. After 4am I expect to sleep on Mommy. No exceptions. If you want to question this, please refer to the second bullet point.
- Daddy is a terrible singer, but by god that terrible singing is some sort of baby calming magic.
- Baby fingernails are SHARP, and cutting baby fingernails is like micro-surgery
- Burping the baby at 2am is a hassle, but having spit-up running down your cleavage at 2:30am is even more of a hassle.
Friday, January 13, 2012
River
"Birth is the sudden opening of a window, through which you look out upon a stupendous prospect. For what has happened? A miracle. You have exchanged nothing for the possibility of everything. For the guarantee of love." - W. Dixon
The Birth
We were scheduled to go in for induction on the night of the 26th, so we planned on having a low-key Christmas day. I woke up very early on Christmas morning with some contractions. I didn't think much of them, as I'd been having them for oh, 9 months or so (okay, my memory may be jaded). While using the bathroom I realized I lost my mucus plug (which is absolutely as gross as it sounds). I was excited, but knew this could mean labor was imminent or still days away. That morning I was suddenly overcome with an insistence that we clean EVERYTHING in the house - decorations must be put away NOW. Nick accused me of being a scrooge (who spends Christmas day putting away Christmas decorations?!) but I was insistent, so we spent the morning cleaning (Merry Christmas!) It was definitely a hint of that "nesting" behavior they warn you about, because my body somehow knew that this was going to be our last chance to clean the house in peace...
Later that day we went on a walk with my parents on the Cathy Fromme Trail. It was a beautiful day out, and a perfect way to spend some family Christmas time. During the walk my contractions started getting harder and stronger - enough that I had to stop walking and breath through them. My mom took a picture of Nick and I at the end of the trail...Later I realized it was our last picture as a family of two.
Around 4pm I decided to try and take a nap, but at this point my contractions were uncomfortable enough to keep me from sleeping. After about an hour of tossing and turning I started timing them, and realized that they were coming regularly and lasting about 45-60 seconds each. I called Celia, who told me to take a shower and see what happens. After the shower it became clear that the contractions were only getting worse and that this was the real deal. We packed our last things, threw the suitcase in the car, and headed to the hospital.
After getting to the hospital they checked me and I was still only at about 1cm dilated. They had me go walk the halls for an hour to see if we could get anything going. After a stimulating walk in circles around the birthing floor, they rechecked me and I was at 3cm. This is it...
At no point in this early stage did I feel scared, overwhelmed, or unsure. I had this weird sense of calm the whole time - no nerves about what was coming (sometimes ignorance is bliss!) My mom and dad arrived and we started the loooooooong haul of laboring and waiting...
After a few hours my contractions definitely picked up in intensity. It's bizarre in my memory, because there's a very delineated line of clear memories, and then suddenly all my memories are fuzzy and confused. At a certain point I remember telling Celia, "It's not the intensity of pain that's hard, it's how it wears on you. It's like some sort of water torture where you just want a break for a few minutes to rest and catch your breath." By about 5-6cm the pain had moved into my back and just settled there. I remember crying, just out of fatigue and frustration, and Celia whispered in my ear, "It's okay if you need to get the epidural. You've done so well, and it's okay to say you need it." It was like the permission I needed to hear, and so I told the nurse I was ready to do the epi.
The anesthesiologist that came in was a jerk. No two ways around it. He immediately made it clear that he wasn't comfortable doing the epidural, and was pissed that he was in this position. He snapped at us about the music we had playing, snapped at the nurse when she didn't follow his orders to the T, and snapped at Nick when we adamantly refused the narcotic option he was trying to push on us. All around, the type of guy a woman in active labor could happily kick in the scrotum. Eventually he agreed to do the epi, and it went off without a hitch.
After some rest I dilated the rest of the way and it was time to start pushing. Unfortunately at this point my epidural had worn off, so they came in to give me a bolus. Much to my chagrin, the boluses stopped working, and I started feeling e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. The pain was concentrated in my lower back and right hip, and it was intense. My hip joint felt like it was on fire, and there was simply nothing I could do to relieve it. Of course, every time they gave me a bolus they wanted me lying on that hip (to allow gravity to try to spread the medicine onto that sight), which when they tried to explain their reasoning to me sounded to my ears like, "We just want to torture you...Muahahahaha!!!!" I'm pretty sure no one ever actually said that, but again, my memory is fuzzy. It could have happened, that's all I'm sayin'.
I ended up pushing for nearly four hours. This time is super fuzzy, so I'll recap it with some main bullet points:
- I pushed in every position you could conceive of. On my side, on my back, squatting, holding my legs, having someone else hold my legs... Final lesson? No matter how you do it, pushing is hard #$%^ work.
- Nick got so nervous when I first started pushing that he threw up in the bathroom. He'll love that I put that little labor tidbit on here...
- Celia and I reached a whole new level of intimacy. Let's just say she was manually directing me where to focus my pushing. In some social circles it could be considered that she got to 3rd base with me. And I'm okay with it.
- My dad fell asleep in a chair in the corner. Yes. Fell asleep. He said later it was Celia's quiet, rhythmic counting to 10 over and over that did him under.
- At some point during the pushing, they realized that Baby was sunny side up and not progressing. The OB on-call that night was brought in (Dr. King - who ended up being AMAZING), and she told me that she could try to internally flip him. I asked her if it would hurt and she replied, "Well, my hands aren't too big..." I realized when she was referring to her entire HAND going up there that this was going to be a whole new experience in discomfort. Yeah. I was right.
- After Baby was flipped, they let me rest for a while to see if he would descend on his own. As soon as I started pushing he flipped again (cue hip torture starting again), and at this point my hip hurt so bad I could barely hold my leg back to push. Baby was also showing signs of stress (drops in heart rate) and when they broke my water there was some merconium. Not good...
Dr. King eventually told me that it was clear my pelvis was simply too narrow to pass a baby. She said that at this point it would be safest to deliver via c-section, and that it looked like that was the only was this little man was going to make his entrance. At this point I was so exhausted I couldn't argue. I appreciated them giving me so much time to push, even though in hindsight I think they knew pretty early on that it wasn't going to be successful. I never wanted to look back with any questions of whether I could have done it vaginally, and never wanted to feel like I 'copped out' and didn't try hard enough. In the moment I did feel like I was letting down my mom and dad, as they wouldn't be able to now witness the birth, and I started crying when I realized this. My mom reassured me that everything was fine, and at that point all I could focus on was getting the sweet, sweet spinal of numbing relief. The anesthesiologist that did my spinal for the section was a different one than earlier (turns out when you labor for 19 hours you go through a few shift changes!), and this new doctor was amazing. He expressed some reservations about trying the spinal, but I told him how important it was to me to be awake for the birth (the other option being general anesthesia, which I adamantly didn't want). He told me he was willing to give it a go, and away we went to the operating room.
Celia and Nick waited outside while they prepped me, and after the spinal (which worked like a charm!) they got me laid out on the table and started getting everything ready. While I was waiting for Celia and Nick to be allowed in, the anesthesiologist sat with me and held my hand and wiped my forehead, and just murmured comforting, positive words to me. Honestly thinking about it now nearly makes me cry - it's such a small gesture, but one that's so profound in a moment like that.
Now, let's backtrack a moment to say that there is a clear, obvious reason that they typically knock people out for major surgery like that. It was...disconcerting to say the least to be awake during that. You can feel the pulling and tugging and pressure, and hear them saying things like "incision made", and you keep waiting for it to hurt because lord knows it should. I honestly never felt any pain...When they pulled Baby out (which was an effort in its own right - he was very firmly wedged and it took Dr. King finally getting up on the table to pop him out) there was an uncomfortable amount of pulling, but again, it never actually hurt. Still. Ew.
I had asked them to lower the curtain when they pulled the baby out so I could see him being delivered, and it was the most bizarre moment. The curtain dropped and suddenly I saw these tiny little legs sprawling toward me - it was simply surreal to think that they had pulled that out of me. I instantly starting sobbing - the mixture of emotions was so wide it was almost disorienting. They took him immediately to the warmer because he was born with quite a bit of merconium, and I wanted Nick to go over and be with him. He needed some oxygen initially because he was a bit 'shell shocked' from the trauma of the labor and delivery, but perked up quickly. I was terrified waiting for him to cry - from my vantage point I couldn't see him, so I thought something was wrong since I couldn't hear anything. Eventually there was a squawk, followed by an outright yell of indignation of being removed from his warm little home so rudely. Nick brought him over and we sat together, crying, just staring at him. Our child. Our son.
This seems like a good spot to add a note about Celia. Celia proved during our labor and delivery to be more than a support person, more than a doula, and more than a friend. During my labor, Celia turned into my center of gravity - her voice was what I could hold onto to keep myself focused and sane, to know that I was okay and moving forward towards my baby. She subtly morphed into everything I needed during labor before I even realized I needed it myself. Through all the fuzzy memories and confused, pain-riddled moments, what still rises to the surface is the sound of her voice. At a certain point her words no longer mattered - I can just hear her soft, Scottish accent in my ear, her lilting words carrying my through each pain, each contraction. Through 19 hours of labor, 4 hours of pushing, and finally one c-section, every moment's memory for me carries a piece of Celia in it. In my mind she is as intertwined in the birth of my child as my own husband...
After the birth they took the baby to the nursery to be checked out due to being born with merconium, and finished stitching me up and cleaning me off. In recovery they brought the baby back, and put him on my chest so he could nurse. I was beyond exhausted, but just enthralled with the fact that this little creature was mine. Was what Nick and I had made. I just wanted to look at him, touch him, try to put together the bizarre reality that this small baby was what had been in my stomach moments earlier. There is a reason they call it a miracle...
My dearest River,
A year ago we didn't know if you were a possibility. We didn't know if we'd ever get a chance to see you, know you, teach you, and love you. A year ago you were a hope, a prayer, a wish that we wanted so badly it hurt. 10 months ago you were a tiny egg that we coaxed to life with the miracle of medication and prayer. You were a false negative on a pregnancy test that broke my heart, followed by the proof of your life via minuscule numbers on a blood test. You were the best gift I could have given your daddy - proof that his determination and support carried us through to what we both wanted most. 36 weeks ago you grew from that tiny egg to a little gummy bear on a grainy black and white screen - moving his arms and legs to show us that you are there, you are growing, and you are ours. 20 weeks ago you went from "Baby" to "him" - causing your Daddy and me to cheer and cry in the darkened room of an ultrasound office. 40 weeks ago you showed us that you do things on your own time frame (you got that from Mommy), when your due date came and went with no sign that you had any intention of joining us. And 41 weeks and 5 days ago, you realized that a forceful eviction was about to occur via induced labor, so you decided it was high time to get the heck out of there. On December 26th, 2011, you made your grand entrance into the world, and in doing so created something magical and irreversible. You created your Daddy and Mommy. In return for our love creating you, you took two ordinary people and made them into the thing they wanted to be the most. Parents. I promise to repay you, my sweet boy. We will repay you with guidance and support. Direction and discipline. Expectations and pride. We will repay you by teaching as well as listening. By allowing you your own mistakes and providing a safe place to fall. We will be quick to hug and generous with "I love yous". We will help you become the man you are destined to be - and know if you are anything like the man your father is, you are truly destined for great things. When you need it we will lead you, and when you are ready to walk alone, know we will be behind you every step. A year ago we didn't know if you were a possibility. And now, now I can only imagine all that is possible for you. My god how we love you, my son. My boy.
All my heart,
Mommy
The Birth
We were scheduled to go in for induction on the night of the 26th, so we planned on having a low-key Christmas day. I woke up very early on Christmas morning with some contractions. I didn't think much of them, as I'd been having them for oh, 9 months or so (okay, my memory may be jaded). While using the bathroom I realized I lost my mucus plug (which is absolutely as gross as it sounds). I was excited, but knew this could mean labor was imminent or still days away. That morning I was suddenly overcome with an insistence that we clean EVERYTHING in the house - decorations must be put away NOW. Nick accused me of being a scrooge (who spends Christmas day putting away Christmas decorations?!) but I was insistent, so we spent the morning cleaning (Merry Christmas!) It was definitely a hint of that "nesting" behavior they warn you about, because my body somehow knew that this was going to be our last chance to clean the house in peace...
Later that day we went on a walk with my parents on the Cathy Fromme Trail. It was a beautiful day out, and a perfect way to spend some family Christmas time. During the walk my contractions started getting harder and stronger - enough that I had to stop walking and breath through them. My mom took a picture of Nick and I at the end of the trail...Later I realized it was our last picture as a family of two.
Around 4pm I decided to try and take a nap, but at this point my contractions were uncomfortable enough to keep me from sleeping. After about an hour of tossing and turning I started timing them, and realized that they were coming regularly and lasting about 45-60 seconds each. I called Celia, who told me to take a shower and see what happens. After the shower it became clear that the contractions were only getting worse and that this was the real deal. We packed our last things, threw the suitcase in the car, and headed to the hospital.
After getting to the hospital they checked me and I was still only at about 1cm dilated. They had me go walk the halls for an hour to see if we could get anything going. After a stimulating walk in circles around the birthing floor, they rechecked me and I was at 3cm. This is it...
At no point in this early stage did I feel scared, overwhelmed, or unsure. I had this weird sense of calm the whole time - no nerves about what was coming (sometimes ignorance is bliss!) My mom and dad arrived and we started the loooooooong haul of laboring and waiting...
After a few hours my contractions definitely picked up in intensity. It's bizarre in my memory, because there's a very delineated line of clear memories, and then suddenly all my memories are fuzzy and confused. At a certain point I remember telling Celia, "It's not the intensity of pain that's hard, it's how it wears on you. It's like some sort of water torture where you just want a break for a few minutes to rest and catch your breath." By about 5-6cm the pain had moved into my back and just settled there. I remember crying, just out of fatigue and frustration, and Celia whispered in my ear, "It's okay if you need to get the epidural. You've done so well, and it's okay to say you need it." It was like the permission I needed to hear, and so I told the nurse I was ready to do the epi.
The anesthesiologist that came in was a jerk. No two ways around it. He immediately made it clear that he wasn't comfortable doing the epidural, and was pissed that he was in this position. He snapped at us about the music we had playing, snapped at the nurse when she didn't follow his orders to the T, and snapped at Nick when we adamantly refused the narcotic option he was trying to push on us. All around, the type of guy a woman in active labor could happily kick in the scrotum. Eventually he agreed to do the epi, and it went off without a hitch.
After some rest I dilated the rest of the way and it was time to start pushing. Unfortunately at this point my epidural had worn off, so they came in to give me a bolus. Much to my chagrin, the boluses stopped working, and I started feeling e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. The pain was concentrated in my lower back and right hip, and it was intense. My hip joint felt like it was on fire, and there was simply nothing I could do to relieve it. Of course, every time they gave me a bolus they wanted me lying on that hip (to allow gravity to try to spread the medicine onto that sight), which when they tried to explain their reasoning to me sounded to my ears like, "We just want to torture you...Muahahahaha!!!!" I'm pretty sure no one ever actually said that, but again, my memory is fuzzy. It could have happened, that's all I'm sayin'.
I ended up pushing for nearly four hours. This time is super fuzzy, so I'll recap it with some main bullet points:
- I pushed in every position you could conceive of. On my side, on my back, squatting, holding my legs, having someone else hold my legs... Final lesson? No matter how you do it, pushing is hard #$%^ work.
- Nick got so nervous when I first started pushing that he threw up in the bathroom. He'll love that I put that little labor tidbit on here...
- Celia and I reached a whole new level of intimacy. Let's just say she was manually directing me where to focus my pushing. In some social circles it could be considered that she got to 3rd base with me. And I'm okay with it.
- My dad fell asleep in a chair in the corner. Yes. Fell asleep. He said later it was Celia's quiet, rhythmic counting to 10 over and over that did him under.
- At some point during the pushing, they realized that Baby was sunny side up and not progressing. The OB on-call that night was brought in (Dr. King - who ended up being AMAZING), and she told me that she could try to internally flip him. I asked her if it would hurt and she replied, "Well, my hands aren't too big..." I realized when she was referring to her entire HAND going up there that this was going to be a whole new experience in discomfort. Yeah. I was right.
- After Baby was flipped, they let me rest for a while to see if he would descend on his own. As soon as I started pushing he flipped again (cue hip torture starting again), and at this point my hip hurt so bad I could barely hold my leg back to push. Baby was also showing signs of stress (drops in heart rate) and when they broke my water there was some merconium. Not good...
Dr. King eventually told me that it was clear my pelvis was simply too narrow to pass a baby. She said that at this point it would be safest to deliver via c-section, and that it looked like that was the only was this little man was going to make his entrance. At this point I was so exhausted I couldn't argue. I appreciated them giving me so much time to push, even though in hindsight I think they knew pretty early on that it wasn't going to be successful. I never wanted to look back with any questions of whether I could have done it vaginally, and never wanted to feel like I 'copped out' and didn't try hard enough. In the moment I did feel like I was letting down my mom and dad, as they wouldn't be able to now witness the birth, and I started crying when I realized this. My mom reassured me that everything was fine, and at that point all I could focus on was getting the sweet, sweet spinal of numbing relief. The anesthesiologist that did my spinal for the section was a different one than earlier (turns out when you labor for 19 hours you go through a few shift changes!), and this new doctor was amazing. He expressed some reservations about trying the spinal, but I told him how important it was to me to be awake for the birth (the other option being general anesthesia, which I adamantly didn't want). He told me he was willing to give it a go, and away we went to the operating room.
Celia and Nick waited outside while they prepped me, and after the spinal (which worked like a charm!) they got me laid out on the table and started getting everything ready. While I was waiting for Celia and Nick to be allowed in, the anesthesiologist sat with me and held my hand and wiped my forehead, and just murmured comforting, positive words to me. Honestly thinking about it now nearly makes me cry - it's such a small gesture, but one that's so profound in a moment like that.
Now, let's backtrack a moment to say that there is a clear, obvious reason that they typically knock people out for major surgery like that. It was...disconcerting to say the least to be awake during that. You can feel the pulling and tugging and pressure, and hear them saying things like "incision made", and you keep waiting for it to hurt because lord knows it should. I honestly never felt any pain...When they pulled Baby out (which was an effort in its own right - he was very firmly wedged and it took Dr. King finally getting up on the table to pop him out) there was an uncomfortable amount of pulling, but again, it never actually hurt. Still. Ew.
I had asked them to lower the curtain when they pulled the baby out so I could see him being delivered, and it was the most bizarre moment. The curtain dropped and suddenly I saw these tiny little legs sprawling toward me - it was simply surreal to think that they had pulled that out of me. I instantly starting sobbing - the mixture of emotions was so wide it was almost disorienting. They took him immediately to the warmer because he was born with quite a bit of merconium, and I wanted Nick to go over and be with him. He needed some oxygen initially because he was a bit 'shell shocked' from the trauma of the labor and delivery, but perked up quickly. I was terrified waiting for him to cry - from my vantage point I couldn't see him, so I thought something was wrong since I couldn't hear anything. Eventually there was a squawk, followed by an outright yell of indignation of being removed from his warm little home so rudely. Nick brought him over and we sat together, crying, just staring at him. Our child. Our son.
This seems like a good spot to add a note about Celia. Celia proved during our labor and delivery to be more than a support person, more than a doula, and more than a friend. During my labor, Celia turned into my center of gravity - her voice was what I could hold onto to keep myself focused and sane, to know that I was okay and moving forward towards my baby. She subtly morphed into everything I needed during labor before I even realized I needed it myself. Through all the fuzzy memories and confused, pain-riddled moments, what still rises to the surface is the sound of her voice. At a certain point her words no longer mattered - I can just hear her soft, Scottish accent in my ear, her lilting words carrying my through each pain, each contraction. Through 19 hours of labor, 4 hours of pushing, and finally one c-section, every moment's memory for me carries a piece of Celia in it. In my mind she is as intertwined in the birth of my child as my own husband...
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| River Garrett Smosna December 26, 2011 6lbs 14oz 20" long |
My dearest River,
A year ago we didn't know if you were a possibility. We didn't know if we'd ever get a chance to see you, know you, teach you, and love you. A year ago you were a hope, a prayer, a wish that we wanted so badly it hurt. 10 months ago you were a tiny egg that we coaxed to life with the miracle of medication and prayer. You were a false negative on a pregnancy test that broke my heart, followed by the proof of your life via minuscule numbers on a blood test. You were the best gift I could have given your daddy - proof that his determination and support carried us through to what we both wanted most. 36 weeks ago you grew from that tiny egg to a little gummy bear on a grainy black and white screen - moving his arms and legs to show us that you are there, you are growing, and you are ours. 20 weeks ago you went from "Baby" to "him" - causing your Daddy and me to cheer and cry in the darkened room of an ultrasound office. 40 weeks ago you showed us that you do things on your own time frame (you got that from Mommy), when your due date came and went with no sign that you had any intention of joining us. And 41 weeks and 5 days ago, you realized that a forceful eviction was about to occur via induced labor, so you decided it was high time to get the heck out of there. On December 26th, 2011, you made your grand entrance into the world, and in doing so created something magical and irreversible. You created your Daddy and Mommy. In return for our love creating you, you took two ordinary people and made them into the thing they wanted to be the most. Parents. I promise to repay you, my sweet boy. We will repay you with guidance and support. Direction and discipline. Expectations and pride. We will repay you by teaching as well as listening. By allowing you your own mistakes and providing a safe place to fall. We will be quick to hug and generous with "I love yous". We will help you become the man you are destined to be - and know if you are anything like the man your father is, you are truly destined for great things. When you need it we will lead you, and when you are ready to walk alone, know we will be behind you every step. A year ago we didn't know if you were a possibility. And now, now I can only imagine all that is possible for you. My god how we love you, my son. My boy.
All my heart,
Mommy
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