Monday, April 30, 2012

Four Months

Dearest Leah,


I’ve been back to work for a month now, and I think I’m slowly getting the hang of it. I’m sure you’d be naked or wearing one of your dad’s shirts as a diaper if I had to start back fulltime. I do not know how other Mommies do it. The first day without you was pretty rough, I cried all the way to work and broke the sound barrier driving back home to see you at the end of that day. But we’re figuring it out, and so far I haven’t screwed up anything at home or work too badly. But I still would MUCH rather be home with you every single minute of every single day.



You have started laughing, and I am able to get a pretty good giggle out of you with the help of a big squishy bumblebee toy. While it’s hilarious to see you laugh, it also makes me cry. I’m a big sap and really, I wasn’t ever sure that I’d see this day or hear your laughter. It makes me look forward to when you’re old enough to watch bad TV with me and cry over complete strangers. 



You rolled over about ten days ago. I was so anxious that it would happen on a day that I was at work, then last Friday we came home from running errands I set you down on the blanket in the living room while I checked to see which episode of friends was on next. (The One with the Embryos) (How fitting for my blog post here!) This is the one when Phoebe is her brothers Gestational Carrier, and Chandler and Joey play Monica and Rachel at Who knows Whom better. “ I AM SO GOOD AT LIGHTENING ROUNDS!” Anyway, so I turn around and you’re on your belly, just looking around and living life as though your mother isn’t a careless failure who chose TV over your first big physical feat. Can I at least call on the 47 minutes of useless video taken of you NOT rolling over? You were SO close though…



Sleep. The day finally came that it seemed you were just too big for your bassinet. In addition, I was afraid that your dads and my tossing and turning at night was keeping you up. I wish I could do the co-sleeping thing, but as much as I love having your squishy little face next to me,  I just don’t sleep well enough when you’re in the bed. I moved you out slowly over about ten days. I put you to bed in your crib at 8, then when you’d get up for your first feeding between 11-1, I’d put you back down in the bassinet. But just a few days ago I let you sleep in your crib all night long. I wish I could say that even though I missed you, I slept more soundly with you in your own room, but I spent most of the night staring at the video monitor making sure you were okay. And since you now wake up without fail at ten minutes to 5am, we have a little routine set of me nursing you in bed and then we both fall back to sleep until LIVE! With Kelli comes on or it’s time to get up.



At your four month appointment your Pediatrician was impressed with how well you can hold your head up, and how long your tiny fingers are.  You now weigh 12 pounds, 4.5 ounces and measure 25 ½ inches long. We love your doctor too by the way. When he came in to the exam room he greeted you first then asked “How are you guys doing? Starting to feel more comfortable being Mom & Dad? Starting to notice some of the stupid crap other people do with their kids, yet?”  But really he has a very gentle manner, listens to my ridonkulous list of questions patiently, and gives reassuring, yet no nonsense answers. You got another round of shots, which made you scream and me cry (I know), but then you slept like A ROCK. Which means momma did too!



It seems like every day you are turning more and more into a little person. And you’re finally out of that cranky stage, except for about 30 minutes before bed time. But even those difficult days were amazing, the new baby/new mom high is definitely still in full effect, I'm just like, stoopid happy. All the time. Just getting to know you feels like the biggest gift and every new day with you is my favorite. I can’t wait to see what the next month brings.

Love,
Momma

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Supplied!

And you folks are exactly what I love about this community. I’m having a tough time with online boards, it seems like most of the people who reply are either crazy bitches or know-it-all schmucks. Neither of which I half an ounce of tolerance for.

So I’m happy to report that trying a combination of your suggestions has not only helped me increase my supply, but I was able to get caught up on my frozen supply while maintaining a fresh supply for the two days she is with my MIL. WOO HOO!

I was asked if Leah was sleeping through the night. She is not, she goes to bed at 8 and is up to feed between 11-2, then feeds again between 4-6. If she only feeds on one side I will stay up and pump the other. Also I try to feed her again right before I leave around 8:30am, but sometimes she’s just not interested.

So per your suggestions, I have switched to the preemie nipples, and asked my MIL to distract her if she starts crying right after it’s finished. If she still seems fussy after 10 minutes, she goes ahead with another bottle. (This usually only applies to 2-3 ounce bags)

On the days I am away from Leah, I pump every three hours religiously. Then I pump every night about an hour after she has gone to bed. (I nurse her to sleep at bed time) I have not tried double pumping, but will give it a shot. I usually massage my breasts while pumping to help encourage the flow. I also ALWAYS have a picture of Leah in front of me.

The Tea. Shit actually works. I stopped drinking it for two days and saw a noticeable decrease in the amount I was able to pump while maintaining my regular pumping/feeding habits. I hate the licorice taste, and hot tea is not exactly appetizing on the hot days, so I decided to chill it and it’s much easier to get through 32 ounces a day. That way it’s refreshing, a change of pace from water, and not nearly as licoriceishy tasting. (They recommend 24 – 40 ounce per day.)

I’m also working on eating the suggested foods!

One more question! I seem to be getting a blister in the same spot on the same nipple, which always leads to a clogged duct, because the milk can't get past the inflammed skin. I realize this is likely a latching issue, but does anyone have any suggestions on how to prevent it? I noticed that I got it one time after falling asleep while nursing - she just kept pacifying it. Then I woke up super raw. UGH. But I don't always realize there is an issue until later on.

Thanks again ladies!!!

Monday, April 16, 2012

Supply and Demand

Before I went back to work, I spent a few weeks building a frozen supply of breast milk for Leah. However she’s gone through it a lot faster than I thought she would. And I only have bottle feeding to blame for that. I’ve read that primarily breastfed babies have a hard time knowing they are full on the occasion that they take a bottle. Flow from the breast is much slower so it’s easier for baby to recognize when its full. Example: Leah can nurse anywhere from 20 -35 minutes, but she can down a bottle in under 10. So on the two days I am at work, she goes through double what she would when I nurse her.

Now my frozen supply is dwindling, and I‘m freaking out a bit about how I will be able to keep up. On the days I am at work I pump and bring that home, then I try to pump every day when I am home just to make up for the additional bags that are used on the other two days, but I’m thinking I won’t be able to maintain my frozen supply much longer.

I drink tons of water, and even started drinking Org.anic Moth.ers Mi.lk Tea to help increase my supply so I can pump twice a day instead of once, or have a larger quantity to pump. Does anyone else have experience with this? Any tips?

Friday, April 13, 2012

Hang On A Sec

I feel the need to clarify my intentions and a few things about my last post. 
Apparently I came off like a controlling ogre who doesn't wanna share. 

I have an amazing relationship with my grandparents, and fantastic memories of holidays with them. And I want more than anything for Leah to have that. Particularly with Brian's parents because I doubt she'll be getting it from my side.

This isn't about cutting Brian's parents out of Leah's life. This is about reigning in a Mother-in-law who clearly sees raising her two sons as the best time of her life, and is ready for round three. And probably day dreams regularly about taking full custody of Leah. (I'm only half kidding)
But it's all out of love and I know that.

My in-laws live three blocks away. They are and will continue to be a HUGE part of ours and Leah's life. And not just because of proximity and the fact that they are my husbands parents, but because I love them and genuinely care for them and want them in my life. But I feel the need to set some boundaries so that my Mother-in-law understands this is her time to OBSERVE and NOT DO. She gets to be a part of and witness this beautiful little girl growing up, this isn't a do-over for her. Grandparents - not Parents

I hope that make sense. 

And if it doesn't, this is my blog and you can suck it. :D

(And one more thing to help make my point of view clear. If you have ever watched Bethanny Ever After, and seen the dynamics between her and Jason's family, you'd understand more of where I am coming from. Brian had the nuclear family and I had, well, kind of a mess...)

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

A New Holiday Regime?

All of this Easter drama has me thinking about the roles parents play and where holiday traditions with our parents merge with the new ones we hope to start with our little family. And how we're going to handle the holidays to come. 

Going forward, I don't really think Leah needs two Easter Baskets. 

If Brian's parents get her one, does that mean my dad should get her one too? 
She definitely doesn't need three Easter Baskets 
(or four if you count my "Around at her Convenience" mother) 

So now the question goes one step further, what about Christmas Stockings? 

I didn't get an Easter Basket or a Christmas Stocking from either of my Grandparents... 

And as far as I know, Santa only delivers your presents to the house you live in. 
Not Grammy and Pop-pop's. 

There are some tricky parts to this situation. 



Right now, we do stockings for the grownups on both sides of our family. 
Brian's folks do one for us, and my dad does one for us. And we do theirs.

Here's my argument against it from now on.




Number 1 - Neither of our parents need to be spending an extra $20-30 dollars on a Stocking at Christmas. If you count Brian and I and Leah, that's a pretty penny. And we don't need to blow money on scratcher lottery tickets and tiny bottles of booze for them either...

Number 2 - I don't want Leah to have lots of STUFF. A fair amount of toys and books, yes. But not to an excess. It's the principle behind it. She is the only grandchild on both sides of the family. She's already going to clean up for her Birthday and Christmas. I don't want her to get spoiled or think that this type of exorbitance is the norm.


Number 3 - Finally, I feel like this is our time. To be Santa and the Easter Bunny. Just Brian and I. They've had their time... 

 I haven't brought this up to Brian yet, and if he agrees with me, this is going to be a very VERY difficult conversation to have with my my in-laws. Especially because my Mother-in-Law already made a stocking for Leah. And my Grandmother-inlaw made one for Leah for here at the house... But what if I want to do my own little thing for Leah? Why should I be obligated to use these items? I feel like it's my turn to start new traditions. 
I want a set of stockings for the three of us that match, and are our style... 
So what now? 

So I ask all of you. Did you get Easter Baskets and Stockings from your Grandparents?



Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Easter Misgivings, and the Land of Firsts

Easter was never a huge deal in my family. Mostly, I suppose, because we're not remotely religious. Did we get together? Of course. Was the day heavy with food and drink? You betcha. My Dad used to give us Easter Bags. It was a crumpled brown paper bag filled with that cheesy plastic grass and an obscene amount of candy. I never cared that my Easter gift wasn't a pretty wooden basket lined with ribbon and lace. Because an Easter Bag was more of my dad's style. It was quirky and endearing. And he always included our favorite candy. It was thoughtful.


A few weeks ago my Mother-in-law and I were at a craft store picking out yarn for a blanket I'd asked her to make for Leah. The store was plastered with Easter decorations and baskets and bunnies. "Awwwwww, next year I'll get to make her an Easter Baskehhht!" I said, thinking of how Brian and I are now the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus. As Easter got closer I started to get more excited as I heard about my friends with older kids and all the plans they had. Dying eggs, filling baskets, hiding eggs and other goodies. I can't wait to dye eggs with her. But I'm a realist. My daughter is three and a half months old. So I didn't think an Easter basket would be necessary or appropriate this year. Not that I think it's dumb, it's just that it didn't make sense for me to run out and spend 20 bucks on a basket that really would have been for me. Not her... Still I smiled as I thought about next year and how she'll be able to hold it and walk with the basket that I made her.


So when we got to my in laws Sunday morning for brunch I felt a pang of anger when I saw an Easter Basket with Leah's name sitting on the fire place. Her first Easter Basket. I've made several comments to my mother-in-law that any firsts need to be run by us before they do anything. I assumed that they might do a little something, like a card and a stuffed animal or even a symbolic chocolate bunny. But no, it was a full fledged monogrammed basket with plastic grass and eggs filled with money and bibs and a hat. Now I get that my mother-in-law was excited about her grandbaby's first Easter. But she's gotten her firsts with her two sons. This is our time, with our daughter, and I'm so frustrated that she wouldn't have thought to ask us what our plans were. I spoke to her about it this morning. I thanked her for the gifts and her thoughtfulness, but explained how I wished she had talked to us first about it. And gently reiterated that ANY FIRSTS need to be approved by Brian and I. She started crying, because that's how she is. My intentions were not to hurt her feelings, but to set a clear boundary. And just as my intentions were pure, I know her's are as well. And that in a way, she's like a little puppydog who gets very excited and doesn't see the puddle of pee she's left on the floor.


Am I being a little hypersensitive? Probably. But I don't think I'm being unreasonable as long as I am honest about my expectations. I also have to ask myself if this would be as big a deal if I wasn't having so many territorial feelings. Maybe, maybe not. I think it really has a lot to do with how your perspective changes when you become a parent. And how much your own experiences influence the feelings you have towards the situations your child will encounter. Never in my life have the things my childhood lacked been more evident, than now as I think of everything I want to give my daughter. I don't blame anyone for what I didn't have. I was raised by a single parent, and my dad did the very best he could. I just have a very clear picture of what I want and don't want for her, and for the three of us as a family. I also think my having to go back to work against my preference plays a part. I'm happy and grateful that my mother-in-law is not only willing and able to watch Leah, but is also ecstatic about doing so. And I think if I didn't have to work and be away from Leah, I'd be more than happy and open to leaving her with my mother-in-law for a few hours a week. But that's just not case and all of this is harder than I thought it would be.

So I guess from now on I'm just going to be a lot more honest with my mother-in-law rather than reserved, as I have been.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

In Which I Hyper-Focus On Me

Gah, I know it’s been a millennia since I updated here. Sorry about that, I’ve just been uber busy with my last few weeks before work started and now that I am back at work, I have even less time. So this post will consist of me yammering on about me. Although I guess that’s sort of what a personal blog is. But whatever. You’ve been warned.

Fat. Whether or not I lose the baby weight quickly is all on me. And so far I have to say; I don’t really care. I thought I would. But I don’t. Not yet anyway. I know I will hit a point where I am ready to shed the last remaining 15lbs that seem to be all in my belly. I don’t eat crap, because Leah can’t tolerate it. I was never really a fast food person, but the one time I did indulge it made her super gassy. No fun for baby = no fun for mama. I have also recently cut dairy out of my diet in order to determine if Leah has a milk protein allergy. If you’re not familiar, babies with milk protein allergies are not able to easily digest the protein in cow, sheep or goats milk that is consumed by its mother and passed on through  breast milk. Symptoms can be:

Gassiness
Fussiness,
Skin irritations like eczema
Respiratory difficulty like wheezing, coughing or congestion
Diarrhea (or excessive bowel movements),  
Vomiting (more than just spitting up)
Low weight gain.

Leah seems to have the eczema, and the gassiness, which seems to lead to the fussiness. So I’m about two weeks in to a diary free diet, I’ll go up to Thursday then have a glass of milk Friday morning and see if she has any reactions. I gotta say I miss my cheeses, but I might just ahve to get used to that. Breastfeeding is just too important to me.

Walking is tough since its been pretty cold and windy in my parts so I wouldn't be able to take Leah with me. But I know we only have  a few more weeks of crappy weather left. And even though I still have a stationary bike in my garage and my Jillian Michaels torture DVD, I umm, don’t really care. My weight has always yo-yo’d and I’m comfortable enough at this point. Plus I like what my midwife said, it took you nine months to get that way, give yourself at least nine months to get back.

Whatelse…Oh, I’m going bald. My hair seems to be falling out like Ron Paul supporters. I’ve heard it’s normal post pregnancy, but good lawd. I am cleaning out my hairbrush and shower drain on a daily basis. It’s starting to get a little scary. And gross.

Work. Originally I was going to come back to work full time, but in January decided I would do part time. Fortunately my company was on board with this. The deal  for bringing Leah to work was this: Full time = bringing her to work every day until it gets to be too difficult (she’s crawling all over or just requiring too much of my time).  Part time= bringing her in on just one of the three days that I work. The other two she is with my MIL at our house. The reason I can’t bring her every day as a part timer is because you don’t get much done when your baby is with you in the office, so in order to be somewhat useful I can only bring her one day. I realize that this is a unique situation and that I’m EXTREMELY lucky enough to have this option at all. Ultimately this is an ideal situation. I work 24 hours a week, I’m with her five days out of seven, and I get to keep my Full time Benefits. I should be happy with it. But I’m not. The truth is I HATE being away from her. And she HATES being away from me. Every time I call to check in my MIL tells me she is or has recently been crying. My MIL is quite capable, but Leah cries for most of the day while I’m not there. I do feel that it is important for Leah to have people she can be comfortable with, other than Brian and I. But not now. She’s so little. And her missing me is on a primal level. She NEEDS me. Her instincts are to be with her mother. It kills me thinking that she is so upset and that me being there would fix it. And that her distress is totally unnecessary.  And damnit it just feels like we worked so hard for this. I can’t imagine missing a second of time with her.

And now I’m crying.

I know in time Leah will get to know my MIL and be fine. And I do look forward to that. Actually I hope that day comes very soon. I just feel so overwhelmed by my need to be with her, and make sure she is okay that I ache when I can’t be there. We actually took a very serious look at me quitting my job fairly soon, but Health Insurance policies are so fucking expensive. And between the cost of the policy and the payments we are still making to my credit card from IVF debt, we just can’t swing it yet. So the plan is for the immediate future, to live like I am not bringing home a paycheck and put as much as we can in the bank and towards my credit card to get it paid off. I fucking hate having credit card debt. We managed to have no debt other than our house for so long, but infertility (and a dead car) squashed that. Could be six months, could be a year... Who knows.


 So with living on one income brings tremendous changes to the way we do things. Like, Cable. I’m cutting our cable bill in half by switching to a new company with a great New Customer Promotion (Cable companies cater new customers rather than rewarding longevity, bastards) We will be going from 400+ channels down to 33. I have to say I am going to miss the Bravo Channel like I would miss a kidney, but we gotta do it. Annnd it’s probably not going to hurt for me to watch a little less TV anyway. Groceries – I’m going to have to cut back on the organic products I prefer to buy to save a few bucks here and there. I’m going to check out the local Farmers markets to compare pricing on organic produce in hopes that we won’t have to go completely without. And I’ll be making a lot more items from scratch. Which I’m looking forward to and don’t mind one bit! We’ve already cut back on eating out, making the occasional pick up from a local taqueria our one treat. I’ve also started grocery shopping at Costco with a girlfriend. I never used to buy perishables from Bulk stores because we either couldn’t finish it before it went bad or didn’t have the room to freeze it. But now, my girlfriend and I are splitting a lot of things which is cheaper and neither of us has to worry about not eating it in time or where we’re going to put the left overs. Diapers - my bff was exteremly generous to give me a cloth diaper starter kit. But I've been working on getting through some disposables that we were given. After that, no more excuses. Gotta get those going!

So what have I learned from our new financial stragedy?  Being lazy costs money. So I need to get my ass in gear!

PEACE. 

Friday, March 23, 2012

Three Months

Dearest Leah,

This letter is the last one I'll have written while I'm at home full time with you. I go back to work next week and my stomach turns into a giant knot when I even think about what my first day away from you is going to be like. But I know you'll be fine with your Grandma. Sorry to make that all about me. Where was I? Right. You're awesome and every day is better than the last. 



Except when it comes to sleeping - you sort of suck at that. You break out of your swaddle on an almost hourly basis, but if I don't wrap you up like a little screaming burrito, you flail your arms in your sleep and wake yourself up. You even manage to break out of the so called magic sleepers that are like little fleece baby straight jackets. But at least your break out skills are not a reflection of my swaddling skills, cause dayum I can wrap that shit up TIGHT. Anyway, I recently purchased a book called The No-Cry Sleep Solution, and I'm hoping that it will reduce your night time wakings from three to four times a night down to fucking zero. And as soon as I get time to read that book, I'm going to implement the shit out of the author's suggestions - cause Momma's starting to forget more than her name and what day it is.  


You fart when you sneeze and holy crow does it make me cackle like a five year old every. single. time.  I know that sounds dumb, but gurrrrl can you toot loud. Gosh, you are just like your Daddy! Speaking of laughing, you giggled for the first time on March 10th. You looked right in my eyes as I smiled at you and you let out the slightest little laugh. It was amazing, and yes, I cried.




The Weeds. You grow like them. I can't believe how many of your pajama's with feets that I have had to retire already. There are a few of them that you only got to wear once or twice. I am really looking forward to your doctors appointment next month so I can see quantitatively how much you have grown, weight and length wise. (we don't have a *working* scale at the house).




The older you get the more I think about everything I want to give you. And I'm not talking about your first pair of Converse High Tops, or necklace from Tiffany. I want you to give you support and confidence. I want you to know how smart, and wonderful you are. And just how very, ridiculously much you are loved. I want to chaperon your field trips and embarrass you at Back-to School night. And I want to talk about anything and everything with you, so you never feel like you're alone, or stupid, or not good enough. (Unfortunately, I think puberty will sneak that crap in anyway) But I want to be your shoulder to cry on, your ride to the movies, and the person who teaches you how to make Baked Zitti and Apple Pies from scratch. I want to be there for you in every possible way a Mother should, for the rest of my life. Because you deserve that. 




Which makes me all the more excited to see what the next month will bring...

Love,
Momma

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Ready Or Not

A little less than a month from now, I will be going back to work. 


And holy crap, I really don't want to.

Unfortunately, since it cost us so much to get pregnant and become parents. We have a fair amount of debt that needs to be paid off. On top of that my husband is a small business owner and we're not in the position to afford to pay for Health Insurance in addition to paying off that debt. So I'm really lucky that the company I work for provides kick ass health benefits. For all three of us. And that I have a job to go back to, period.


Being at home and taking care of our tiny, yet comfortable home makes me so incredibly happy. And being here every day with Leah brings me to a level of spiritual fulfillment that I can't even begin to describe. It feels like this is what I was meant to do. 


So each day that passes makes me dread going back to work more and more. BUT, fortunately that my company will let me start back part time. Three days a week. And I'll be bring Leah in with me on one of those days, every week. The other two days she will be with my mother-in-law. 


I'm grateful to my MIL for being generous enough with her time to offer to take care of our little girl two days a week. Though I know secretly she wishes it was five. Which makes my hackles go up a little bit. Overall I think I'm doing a little better with my territorial feelings, but they are most certainly not gone. I still kind of want to yank Leah away from her each time she holds her and talks baby talk to her. Yet I refrain. And every time she sees Leah, she calls her her little "Snookum Pie", which makes me throw up in my mouth a little. But then I think of the days that she's come to our house to visit with Leah, and I'm in awe to see a grandmother who loves her grandchild so very much that she will skip meals and bathroom breaks in order to avoid setting down the baby who has been sleeping on her shoulder for the last two hours. And I think, how lucky are we? How lucky is Leah, that she'll have a grandmother who will love her as much as mine loves me. (The same grandmother whom I made Leah's middle name sake) And then I feel like a complete asshole for not wanting to share. 


But I will continue to work on it. It might even be a good reason to get back into therapy for a session or two. Because I really can't put my finger on where this stems from. But it's not good, even if it is "normal". 


My other concern is how well I will manage my home life on top of working. I never felt like I could do either 100% well before. So how do I take care of my husband, daughter, home and work???


Any advice from you ladies on how to make it all work?

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.