Monday, February 27, 2012

Two Months

Dearest Leah,

This past month has been pretty incredible with you. It feels like you and I are starting to get in more of a rhythm. I won't dare say I've started to figure you out, because on a regular basis, the moment I make a declarative statement in your regard you, without fail, prove me wrong. 
It's like like you're sixteen already.



In the beginning of this month (February 2nd to be exact), you made eye contact and smiled at me for the very first time. And it wasn't just gas. It was an actual response to my high pitched nonsensical rambling. And I never thought the day you were born could be out shined, but holy crow... That very moment when you looked into my eyes and smiled - it was like you knew who I was and you were happy to see me. 
And my heart just about imploded.




The third happiest occasion was when you and I both slept SEVEN hours straight without so much as a bathroom trip or my having to reach into your bassinet to turn your ocean noise machine back on. I seriously do not think I have slept seven hours straight since June of last year. 
PLEASE feel free to do that ANYTIME.



You have unfortunately developed a dermatalogical issue that both your dad and I have. Eczema. Sorry bout that. One day you were particularly cranky and wouldn't stop squirming and fussing, even thought I'd done almost everything to make you comfortable. I noticed that your eyebrows and in between your eyes had some bumpiness so on a whim I started to rub a little back and forth. You immediately stopped fussing and squirming and your eyes glazed over. You were itchy. You poor thing. I'd be pissed off too if I had an itch I couldn't scratch and couldn't tell anyone about it. That blows!



Since you were about three weeks old you've gone through this kind of witching hour between 5 and 10pm that made your dad and I want to jam forks into our temples. Okay, it's not as much me as it is your dad. The poor guy takes it pretty personally and swears it's a plot against him. But it seems like your are slowly growing out of it. Maybe having two or three good nights per week.

You've starting to get a little more comfortable with your car seat and the swings we have for you here at the house - which is FANTASTIC because now I can actually inhale a little breakfast before you start screaming to be fed again.



At your two month Doctor appointment we learned that you grew an inch and gained a pound! You're up to 9lbs, 14 oz and 23 inches long.  It's been crazy to see that you're already out of most of your newborn clothes. Taking them out of your drawers and packing them up already feels totally surreal. Unfortunately at your two month appointment you also got three shots, which resulted in a pretty cranky afternoon at home.



Other firsts during the last month, we took you to the beach near Mavericks in Half Moon Bay. A favorite spot of your Dad's and mine. We used to take your furry brother Parker there a lot until he injured his knee. 



You also had your first Superbowl. Not that either of your parents give a rats *ss about football. We usually wear our hockey jerseys to Superbowl parties just to make sure everyone else knows that too.  But your good friend Bella's mommy was kind enough to mark the occasion with a custom onesie which was pretty neat.



Sometimes while I'm staring at you or packing you up to go somewhere, I still can't believe you're ours. Almost to the point where I feel like when I walk in somewhere in public, I feel like people assume I'm your nanny. It's kind of bizzarre. And while having you in my arms makes me feel more like a woman than I ever have before, the Mom title still feels a little foreign. I'm a Mom. 
I'm YOUR Mom. And I love you SO fricken much.




Can't wait to see what next month brings!

Love,
momma

Monday, February 20, 2012

Birth Story, Part II

Just to warn you - this is HELLA long. 

So we pull into the main parking lot and head towards the long term area. We were laughing because though our bags were packed and ready to go - they were at home and the only thing we had to bring up to L&D was an 8 pack of Frost Glacier, Gatorade that I'd been too lazy to bring into the house.  For the record I was always planning to bring that Gatorade to the hospital, but I left it sitting in my trunk for like two weeks.

So let that be a lesson. In case you are as dumb as me, the hospital bags that you have packed and ready to go, are pretty much useless if you don't put them in your fucking car.

So we get up to L&D and the woman at the main desk asks for my name. I begin to say my last name when a smiley face nurse pops her head around the corner and says "Oh, Brian and Melissa, right?". Our midwife had called over and gotten the only Charge Nurse who was not a replacement due to the strike. She had been with that hospital for years, and tried to work during most of the strikes so that things wouldn't fall apart completely with different staffing. So Susie (our midwife) called and spoke with this Charge Nurse, named Sharon. She told Sharon our whole story and sent her the detailed Birth Plan we'd hoped to follow.

Sharon took us to a room toward the back of L&D, and showed us in. I was grateful she'd been able to get us a room with a laboring tub, like we had hoped for. We started to explain to her that we understood Susie's concern, but really didn't want to use Pitocin unless it was totally necessary. She listened to all of our concerns, and agreed to stall on it for a bit. Her main focus was getting me on the monitor to see what my contractions were looking like. As it turned out, though they weren't super heavy, they were indeed consisten and just about three minutes apart. Sharon happily explained that since my contractions were steady, she would be able to postpone the Pitocin. 
That's about when it dawned on us that this was really it. We were not going to be able to go home now, and the next time we did, we'd have a baby in our arms.

I called Teresa and let her know we'd been admitted and asked her to bring our stuff up to the hospital on her way. When she got to our room, we hugged and laughed. It was a really good atmosphere, and we were all pretty amped. Brian and Teresa started chatting excitedly about "the baby" and how amazing this all was. I stopped them in their tracks and announced that they were not allowed to get cheerleadery or mushy. Those thing detracted from my focus and I wasn't able to get through my contractions properly because they made me cry. Which made me sound nuts, but I didn't care.

At this point my contractions were all still back labor, but very manageable. Since I've struggled with lower back issues over the last few years, I have learned how to deal with that type of pain quite well. So I felt very comfortable getting through each wave.

 Here we are hanging out, joking around and looking for something good to watch while we waited for my hooha to put on a show.


 45 seconds later, me, having a contraction. And Brian taking the "lets find something good on TV" thing too seriously. (my belly looks all weird because of the monitors.)

At this point it was close to 5pm, and Sharon came in to check on things and make sure we were getting settled in. She told me that Susie would be coming to the hospital around 6pm to check on me and would probably do an internal then, so she wouldn't bother putting me through one herself. She sat and chatted with us, and we were just telling her how glad we were to have her and that she was really great and we were worried about what kind of staffing might be here to cover the stike. That's when she smiled and told us the other reason she came in was to let us know that her shift would be over in two hours and she'd be going home... But, her being the kickass Charge Nurse that she was, she scoured through all of the nurses on staff and found two that were experienced with Natural Child Birth. Turns out that one of them had even done two home births of her own, so she was particularly well versed. 

As promised, just after 6pm Susie came strolling through the door. She greeted us all and asked how things were going while she felt around my belly. Then she told me we'd have to do an internal - bleh- what she didn't tell me was that the baby's head still had not dropped and she was about to move it down manually. Umm yeah, Ouch. It was smart of her not to say anything in advance because I think it would have ben harder on me physically had I been aware of what she was about to do. But in doing so, she most definitely got an expletive filled talking to from me. She forgave me though. And during her poking and proding around she broke my water. 

Shortly after that, my contractions became much more intense. And I decided that standing for a bit was the most comfortable way to get through them. With each contraction I sucessfully zoned out and exercised my breathing techniques. I leaned into Brian while Teresa rubbed my back. 

Teresa noticed that my demenor was changing a bit, which indicated that my labor was really progressing. She filled up the tub and suggested I get in. The water was perfectly warm, and was extremely relaxing. It not only completely took the edge off my contractions but it slowed them down a bit too. Which was great because I was able to get a little rest. 

And it was a good thing I did because the moment I got out of the tub they started back faster and stronger. To the point where I could barely hold myself up. It was about 9pm. I moved to the bed and layed down on my side. I also began vocalizing through the contractions. A low, and long moan from start to finish. Teresa came to face me, she held my hand and she and Brian both would tell me how great I was doing. Brian stayed on the other side and rubbed my back. He was using the palm of his hand to apply pressure to the small of my back. It helped a lot, though my contractions were all in my abdomen now. And that, I did not handle as well as the back labor. There were probably three or four contractions where I lost my focus and they got away from me. Holy shit did those fucking hurt. I cried through each of those ones and told Teresa and Brian I couldn't do it anymore.  

Well before my labor we had discussed the possibility of me not being able to do it naturally. What if I was too tired or felt like I couldn't hack it... I told Teresa and Brian to stall, to divert my attention or even talk me out of it. But instead, they talked me through it.

Teresa would say "I know, I know, it hurts. But there - you're done. You never have to do that contraction again!" And Brian just kept encouraging me, telling me how proud he was and how great I was doing. These contractions were hard. And relentless. And if it weren't for Brian and Teresa working as hard as they did to support me, I don't think I could have gotten through it without medication. 


This is right about the time I started puking. With each contraction I started to feel more and more nauseous. I think I threw up about four times. But I barely noticed it, to tell you the truth. 

I started feeling like I had to pee. Really bad. So I asked for them to walk me to the toilet. It was about ten feet away. I sat down on the toilet, but everytime I would relax enough to be able to start to pee, I'd have another contraction. And they hurt a whole lot more when I was sitting, than if I was standing or laying down. So Brian was standing in front of me, and he'd lift me off the seat each time. By now, I was putting my whole weight on him through each contraction. Poor guy, the only comfortable position for me at that point was very hard on him, but he sucked it up and didn't complain once. And the contractions were so intense that I couldn't do anything but breath and vocalize. This is when I had my bloody show. It was thick and sort of stringy.  I had to have someone help me wipe it off my legs. Which I know sounds embarrasing, but believe me modesty had gone bye-bye hours ago. I couldn't have cared less. Teresa began to tell me that my urge to pee may just be the pressure of the baby, and that maybe I didn't have to go afterall. And in that instant my next contraction hit me like a Mack truck. I did my thing breathing and vocalizing, except at the end of it, my moan turned into a grunt. The nurse who was there checking my monitors, swooped in and shouted "Get her on that bed, right now!"

I was starting to feel the need to push. It was the most overwhelming and primal feeling I have ever encountered.

I was on the bed very quickly and a nurse began to check me. I know it hurt but I didn't care for some reason. The nurse looked across the room to the other nurse and stated firmly that I was "complete". 
Fully dilated. 

They put an oxygen mask on me to help give me a little more energy to start pushing. They also had me sit partially upright. It wasn't long before the urge to push would come on like a wave again, just as the contractions did. But for some reason it didn't hurt anymore. All I could feel was the pressure and need to push. Brian and Teresa stood on either side of me with big silly grins as they talked me through each wave and watched to see my progress. 

After ten minutes of pushing, they were able to see the top of the head appear a little more each time I pushed. The nurse reminded me to put my chin to my chest, and decided to have me hold my own legs for leverage. Shortly after a small problem arrose. Even though I still had monitors on my belly they couldn't get a consistent reading on the baby. Which actually meant they weren't able to find a heartbeat at all. Since I was crowning they asked to put an electrode on the baby's head to monitor it's heart rate. The reason they had to inform us is because the electrode would actually pierce the baby's scalp. I wasn't entirely coherent at this point so Brian had to make the decision. He told them to go ahead. 

I continued pushing and though they had the electrode hooked up they couldn't figure out how to make the computer work with it. They said they hadn't used that type of equipment before. Had I been able to even remember my own name at that point, I probably would have been scared or pissed off by this scenario.

Evidentlly once I started pushing the nurses paged my midwife, who lived about five minutes away. A new nurse had come in to help set up for baby when she'd been told that Susie was still not here. Considering my progress at that point she shouted across the room to tell the nurse to have me stop pusing. 

WHAT?

Yeah, I know. I ignored her.

I later learned that the nurse she was speaking to leaned over to Teresa and said "I don't even know how to explain to her that a woman who hasn't had an epidural, can't stop pushing." 
Word.

As it turns out, Susie was down stairs but security wouldn't let her in through the front door. During a strike, any staff that crosses the picket lines must go through a special entrance. But my midwife wasn't havin' that. She told him to call whomever he needed to, but she had a patient delivering and didn't have time to go to the back of the building. He eventually let her in. And just in time. I think she got there within four or five pushes of Leah being born. There was a point during this stage where I felt the burning sensation, but it didn't last long. I definitely complained about it though!

Earlier on we had asked Susie, if conditions were optimal, would it be possible for Brian to catch the baby? She said sure. So once the baby's head was out, she told Brian to grab some gloves. In the short time that he had turned around to get a pair of sterile gloves I had the urge to push again and the next thing we knew she was out! Let me just say, with that last push and the feeling of her finally coming out of my body was the biggest sense of physical relief I think I've ever experienced. You know how in the movies when the baby comes out and the woman falls back with a big sigh. Yeah, it's exactly like that.

They quickly put her on my chest, and all I remember feeling was udder disbelief. There was a baby on my chest. And all I kept saying was hello. 



It seemed like a few minutes had gone by when Susie turned to Brian and said 
"Well, what do we have, Dad?" 

The funny thing is, it totally hadn't even occurred to me to ask if it was a boy or a girl. I was like "Oh... Right!"

Brian walked around to my right side and lifted up the baby's leg. It took him a second but he finally exclaimed "It's a Girl!"

But not in a "Hey, it's a girl" kind of way. More like in a HOLY SHIT, IT'S NOT A BOY?!?!?!" kind of way. Don't get me wrong, he wasn't disappointed. He was just surprised. And I was just as shocked as he was. Secretly, we both would have bet money that it was a boy. 

Lesson one in parenting: prepare to be surprised.






Brian, putting her on the scale

She had only been on my chest for a few minutes when they told me they were concerned by her lack of crying. They wanted to check her out. Reluctantly I allowed them. Only to find out later that baby's who are delivered without medications cry less... In an attempt to distract me, Teresa demanded to know the name we'd kept secret from everyone throughout the pregnancy. Our daughter would be Leah Marjorie. Brian and I both liked the name Leah, but Marjorie is my paternal Grandmother's name. We are very close. (Hannah, was our second choice {for a first name}. But we wanted to see what she looked like before deciding)


Anyway, everything was fine with Leah and they got her back to me quickly.  By now, Susie had me up in the stirrups so that we could deliver the placenta. The moment I felt another contraction I was able to get it out with one push. Susie then began cleaning and sewing me up. They ended up having to give me pitocin post delivery because I was losing too much blood. 


Surprisingly, I didn't cry at all. And I'm a crier. But I was just too high I guess. I felt like a million fricken bucks. 
No pain, all euphoria. 


Brian's family was waiting out in the hall, but I wanted to try feeding her first. I spent about 15 minutes feeding her and then we let them in. They were beside themselves. (My family came the next morning).  Things started to wind down. I was settled in, the room had been returned to it's previous state (sans delivery equipment). Brian and I had said goodbye to his folks, and we sent Teresa home to be with her boys and husband. Brian laid down on the couch across from me and was starting to drift off, Leah was in the bassinet, next to me. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I wasn't even remotely tired...


A nurse came in a few minutes later and told us it was time to bathe her. I had asked that Brian be the one to give her her first bath, and that it be done in our room with our own soap. Brian had been asleep for about 10 minutes at this point, so he wasn't thrilled to be woken up, but he knew how important it was to me. During her bath she had her first poop. Good timing baby girl!


When they finally finished Brian got back in bed. I asked the nurse to hand the baby to me. I laid there with her in my arms and took turns staring at her, then Brian, and back to her again... The nurse came back in to check on me and asked if I wanted to keep holding her. I told her I wanted to, but that I would probably sleep better if I didn't. Which turned out to be wrong, because from the moment they put her back in the bassinet, I just kept peaking over to check on her. I couldn't sleep. So the next time a nurse came in, I asked her to hand Leah to me again. 






The next 24 hours flew by, and by noon on Christmas Eve we were being discharged and sent home.


Me being wheeled out. 
This is when I finally started crying. 
I'd waited for this particular moment for a very long time.




I cried here too.


Can you see now, why it took me two months to get all that down? 
No, I know. I'm lame. 


So yes, our labor and delivery when very well. One thing I would really like to say is this; Yes, natural child birth is hard and yes, it hurt. But it's doable. I think  if all women were able to prepare for how to deal with contractions and are able to have a strong support system, 95% of them would be able to do it without meds. 


If you have any questions about the birth or labor, please feel free to ask. 

Saturday, February 18, 2012

James Dean Meets Tommy Boy

He was a Rebel Without A Cause and Black Sheep. 
Larger than life. 
A ham. 
A shit disturber. 




He barked a squirrels and cement bunnies. 
But he was smart enough to figure out how to get into his food bank. 

We got our beloved dog Parker when he was just 10 weeks old, we'd only been married four months. 




He was our first baby. Our roommate. 

But now his things are gone. Though it's hard to believe that he is. It's like he's nowhere and everywhere at the same time. I walk into a room and expect him to be there. When I open a bag of chips. When pick up my keys. When a doorbell rings - ours or one on TV. On the couches. On our bed. On his beds. Laying in the sun or over a heater vent. 

I keep hearing his collar jingle.

He's been an intrigul part of our lives for the last eight years. And thanks to his nonstop antics and mischief; a source of several arguments. But also reasons for trips to the beach and routine evening walks. We spent close to the cost of a basic IVF cycle on him during his very short life. Between emergency vet visits, medications, toys, food, surgery, doggy daycare, and various treats. 




A little over a week ago he ate part of one of Leah's burp clothes. We weren't sure initially if he had eaten it, we just found one torn to shreds. By Friday he couldn't keep anything down, and hadn't pooped for days. 

The vet told us surgery was the only option. And it would cost between $2,700 and $4,800 depending on how long the surgery lasted. And that wouldn't include the after care costs.

When he was five he had surgery on his knee. He'd torn a ligament that is equal to an ACL in people. And since that surgery he's never quite been the same. It aged him. And while personality wise he was still his wacky, monkey self, there was a distinct difference in his overall demeanor. 

We knew we couldn't afford the surgery, and we knew with the seriousness of the type of procedure it would require, that his recovery would be fairly brutal and he definitely wouldn't ever be the same again. 

And then we knew we couldn't save him.

And our hearts were breaking. 

And our happy little family would be back to three, again. 

We called him our roommate, and he was almost even like the third member in our marriage. Except he never took sides. If we were in different rooms, he would lay in the hallway...




We tried a Hail Mary session of intravenous liquids, and anti nausea medication in hopes that it would he get his bowels moving so that he could pass it. But it wasn't to be. 

Last Saturday night, just after 6pm we put our beautiful little monkey-dog down. They took us into a small room, with a soft blanket spread out on the floor. The vet opened a door on the other side of the room, and Parker came trotting in. The infusion had perked him up a little, but ultimately it was hopeless and at this point, they were just keeping him comfortable. He came in and greeted us as always. We started to cry, hard, as we began our goodbyes. He walked away for a second, and layed down in front of Leah's carseat. He put his head on her lap. As if to say a goodbye that she couldn't. And we cried harder. I left the room. I couldn't stay. I wanted to remember him trotting around, with at least a flicker of light in his eyes. 

And then he was gone.

I've never seen Brian so shaken in the entire 12 years I've known him. And that hurts me almost more than losing Parker. I know in time, we'll want to have a dog again. We'll always be dog people. 
But I feel like we will never love another one this deeply. 
I wasn't a dog person before we got him.




He was such a rascal. He barked incessantly. He would drink water until he puked if we didn't stop him. He was a ninja at stealing cubes of butter off of the kitchen counter. He's eaten countless foreign objects and stolen portions of our meals and snacks. 
Just to name a few: 
battery operated candles
a whole frozen chicken breast - still in the plastic
a pound of chocolate
a bicycle seat
a box of Cheezit's and two boxes of unpopped popcorn including the butter pouches - in one sitting
a beer can
a sponge
rocks
cat poop
wrapping paper
toilet paper
2 lbs of grapes
my $600 nightguard (for teeth grinding)

Which is why we weren't terribly worried when part of the burp cloth was missing. He'd eaten so many other ridiculous things that we just kind of thought he was bullet proof. 

But now he's gone, and we can't stop crying. Everything reminds me of him - which feels good and bad. I realize I probably sound like a lunatic, rambling on about a dog this way. 
But he was no ordinary dog. 

And I will miss him for the rest of my life.