Lilah has been a blessing to our family for going on 5 weeks now. She has accomplished so many things. Obviously, I think she's extraordinary, but I've been told she's pretty advanced. She smiles all the time, and she tries to laugh. She has this weird, quiet sort of chuckle. She also tries to talk to us. If we hold her in front of us and talk to her, she smiles and opens her mouth, moves her tongue, and makes strange noises in reply. She always looks like she's very proud of herself, too. Lilah's main fault is a short temper (which she inherited from her mama) and intense jealousy of anyone near her who happens to be eating.
I've already noticed strange traditions we've started with her. Dano calls her Bean, Smiles McGee, Chubs McFace, and many other things. We all watch NCIS in the evenings. We have weird names for certain outfits of hers - the "chili pepper" outfit, "short-bus bunny" sleeper, and the "fluffy-puff marshmallow" suit. She tries to hold her head up, she can roll over, and if we put her on her stomach, she army crawls away. It's been a crazy month. She slept in her basket for two whole hours last night before demanding to be put back in bed with us. She's gone from being a few minutes old and just lying there all the time to having such a fun, crazy personality. We're planning on going to see "X-men Origins" in a week or so, to leave her with Dano's parents as a practice run for me going back to work. I'm scared to death to leave her alone without us, but I know it's necessary. As much as each new stage scares me and makes me miss my tiny little baby who needed me for everything (okay, so I admit to crying when she slept in her basket without crying to be held right away), I love each stage more than the last, and watching her grow these 5 weeks has been the most rewarding labor of love I've ever experienced. I can't wait to see the rest of it.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
"Are we old people?"
Adjusting to life with Lilah has been an ongoing process. She's a little bit of a mama's girl, which blows my mind. There are times when other people are holding her and she's crying, and I get ready to feed her, assuming she's hungry, and she stops as soon as I take her. She just looks at me with her huge, blue eyes, and that's all she wanted. She loves when I hold or cuddle or sing to her. I'm not trying to be all "poor me, my life sucks", but my relationship with my mother was far from close, and I don't ever remember a time when we were affectionate with each other. She would always say things like, "I'm just not a girly girl", or "I'm not the emotional one, Dad is". I remember the whole family watching Finding Neverland and bawling at the end, and me looking at my mother and having her say, "I don't get it." At the end of Ladder 49, she "comforted" us all by telling us it was just a movie, and not worth crying over. One of the few times I remember her hugging me was when I was leaving their house after a family intervention begging me not to get married. She cried too, and said nothing I could ever do or decide or say could change how much they loved me, and I'd always be welcome in their house. A week later, when I told her I hadn't changed my mind and was still getting married, she suddenly "wasn't comfortable" having me around the kids anymore, and that was the last time I saw the inside of their house. Any and all trust I had in a word she said was shot to Hell that day, and even if our relationship improves someday, I'll always feel like that hug, those tears, the promises were all a ruse to get her way.
So to have a little daughter who just likes being in my arms and staring at me is mind-boggling. I love her dearly, and I *am* an emotional girly girl who likes shopping and crying at sad movies and cuddling. It's just sometimes an effort to relate to her as a mother, even though our personalities are similar, because it's so foreign to me.
Our 3-mile walk outside yesterday was a success. She either slept in her stroller or looked around with interest the whole time. I overdid it a little and am paying for it today with really sore hips and legs, but I feel good, and we both got some good doses of Vitamin D (Lilah has a funny-looking hat line to prove it).
She's also gone from waking up around 3:00 AM to eat to 5:00 AM, which is more hours of uninterrupted sleep for mama! She doesn't cry when she wakes up. She either grunts and squirms around until she comes unswaddled and can roll around happily between parents, or she scoots over to me (I always sleep on my side facing her) and sucks on a breast through my shirt until I wake up to find those big blue eyes staring at me, and her open-mouthed like a baby bird with a mouthful of shirt. It's much better than waking up to a squalling infant. Her bedtime is between 11:00 and 11:30, so we always go to bed at a decent time these days. It makes me feel pretty old, but it's completely worth it to get a good night's sleep!
So to have a little daughter who just likes being in my arms and staring at me is mind-boggling. I love her dearly, and I *am* an emotional girly girl who likes shopping and crying at sad movies and cuddling. It's just sometimes an effort to relate to her as a mother, even though our personalities are similar, because it's so foreign to me.
Our 3-mile walk outside yesterday was a success. She either slept in her stroller or looked around with interest the whole time. I overdid it a little and am paying for it today with really sore hips and legs, but I feel good, and we both got some good doses of Vitamin D (Lilah has a funny-looking hat line to prove it).
She's also gone from waking up around 3:00 AM to eat to 5:00 AM, which is more hours of uninterrupted sleep for mama! She doesn't cry when she wakes up. She either grunts and squirms around until she comes unswaddled and can roll around happily between parents, or she scoots over to me (I always sleep on my side facing her) and sucks on a breast through my shirt until I wake up to find those big blue eyes staring at me, and her open-mouthed like a baby bird with a mouthful of shirt. It's much better than waking up to a squalling infant. Her bedtime is between 11:00 and 11:30, so we always go to bed at a decent time these days. It makes me feel pretty old, but it's completely worth it to get a good night's sleep!
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Challenges
As many of you know, I spent quite a bit of time during the last few weeks of my pregnancy worrying about my milk-producing abilities. Out of the six kids my mother had, she wasn't able to nurse any of them for long. She didn't attempt it with the first handful, and when she tried it, her milk wasn't able to sustain a baby. They tested it, and I can't remember exactly what was wrong with it, but the baby would eat and eat and not get fat.
So when Lilah came out, my doctor helped me with the first nursing session, getting her latched right and sucking. I was told that she might only want to nurse for ten minutes or so, but that was okay. When she came back in about 45 minutes later, Lilah was still going at it and had switched to the other breast. Everyone was very impressed with her.
My milk came in about three days after giving birth, and I didn't have much engorgement to deal with. I mean, they swelled up and made it look like I'd visited Dr. 90210 for implants and was planning on stripping my way through college, but they never hurt like people had told me they would. Lilah was gaining weight, milk kept on coming, things were good.
About eight days in, I noticed a spot on the outsides of both nipples that looked raw, for lack of a better word. It burned a little when she'd latch on, but no big deal. As the days went on, the raw areas cracked and I'd cry every time she started nursing. I asked a few people for advice, and was told it was normal, would go away, and to grit my teeth and be patient.
A day or so later, it was so bad that I would literally cringe and tear up when she'd cry to be fed. Dano would sit by me and help me get her latched properly, and rub my shoulder or hold my hand while she ate ravenously and I cried. Finally on Sunday night, I asked him to call his sister for help. I couldn't do it anymore, and felt like a complete failure as a mother for it. Kim told us that my nipples had fissures, and it was important to rest them for a few days or they could get infected. Her friend Danielle asked to talk to me. She has a three month old, and had experienced the same thing. It was so nice to talk to someone who hadn't just been a naturally perfect food source right off the bat, not a seasoned mother who had already been there and succeeded. Dano went out at 10:00 that night and lowered himself by going to Wal-mart (he refuses to shop there, on principle) to get me a breast pump. I was able to pump about five oz right away.
I started bawling again when I saw her attack the bottle. I know my milk was probably being affected by the stress of how painful nursing was, and she wasn't latching right because of my nipples having those cracks, but to see my baby take food from something that wasn't me broke my heart. I had no idea how emotional nursing was for the mother, not just the baby.
It's been three days, and we're going to try nursing again as soon as she wakes up from her nap. Pumping has gone really well, but I still feel an actual ache inside when I'm holding her and she opens her mouth and turns toward my chest, and I have to give her a bottle instead. I know it's still my milk, but it's so different. She's been more clingy, too. She wants to touch my skin at all times. When she's sitting there sucking on her bottle and staring at me with those big, blueberry eyes, I feel so judged. I know it's just hormonal weirdness, but I'm imagining her thinking, "Why won't she feed me like she always does? Why do I have to take this weird thing instead?" and I feel like an awful mother.
Wish me luck, and prayers for healing would be great. I'll let you know how it goes.
Update: SUCCESS!
So when Lilah came out, my doctor helped me with the first nursing session, getting her latched right and sucking. I was told that she might only want to nurse for ten minutes or so, but that was okay. When she came back in about 45 minutes later, Lilah was still going at it and had switched to the other breast. Everyone was very impressed with her.
My milk came in about three days after giving birth, and I didn't have much engorgement to deal with. I mean, they swelled up and made it look like I'd visited Dr. 90210 for implants and was planning on stripping my way through college, but they never hurt like people had told me they would. Lilah was gaining weight, milk kept on coming, things were good.
About eight days in, I noticed a spot on the outsides of both nipples that looked raw, for lack of a better word. It burned a little when she'd latch on, but no big deal. As the days went on, the raw areas cracked and I'd cry every time she started nursing. I asked a few people for advice, and was told it was normal, would go away, and to grit my teeth and be patient.
A day or so later, it was so bad that I would literally cringe and tear up when she'd cry to be fed. Dano would sit by me and help me get her latched properly, and rub my shoulder or hold my hand while she ate ravenously and I cried. Finally on Sunday night, I asked him to call his sister for help. I couldn't do it anymore, and felt like a complete failure as a mother for it. Kim told us that my nipples had fissures, and it was important to rest them for a few days or they could get infected. Her friend Danielle asked to talk to me. She has a three month old, and had experienced the same thing. It was so nice to talk to someone who hadn't just been a naturally perfect food source right off the bat, not a seasoned mother who had already been there and succeeded. Dano went out at 10:00 that night and lowered himself by going to Wal-mart (he refuses to shop there, on principle) to get me a breast pump. I was able to pump about five oz right away.
I started bawling again when I saw her attack the bottle. I know my milk was probably being affected by the stress of how painful nursing was, and she wasn't latching right because of my nipples having those cracks, but to see my baby take food from something that wasn't me broke my heart. I had no idea how emotional nursing was for the mother, not just the baby.
It's been three days, and we're going to try nursing again as soon as she wakes up from her nap. Pumping has gone really well, but I still feel an actual ache inside when I'm holding her and she opens her mouth and turns toward my chest, and I have to give her a bottle instead. I know it's still my milk, but it's so different. She's been more clingy, too. She wants to touch my skin at all times. When she's sitting there sucking on her bottle and staring at me with those big, blueberry eyes, I feel so judged. I know it's just hormonal weirdness, but I'm imagining her thinking, "Why won't she feed me like she always does? Why do I have to take this weird thing instead?" and I feel like an awful mother.
Wish me luck, and prayers for healing would be great. I'll let you know how it goes.
Update: SUCCESS!
Friday, April 3, 2009
Adjustments
I hope no one takes this as complaining, because it's really anything but that. I have a baby who is incredibly easy-going, sweet, and agreeable. There are just some aspects to caring for even the easiest newborn that are challenging to say the least. I had always heard there's no harm in letting a baby cry for a few minutes if you know they're not hurt or in need of anything. Those "experts" obviously don't have any children. As soon as I hear so much as a whimper from Lilah, I'm jerked out of a dead sleep (usually to find she was just dreaming anyway). I read this week that the cry of an infant is genetically designed to agitate her parents, mostly the mother. I guess that's how even the stupidest parents have managed to keep children alive. We as mothers are engineered to do anything to quiet the cries of our babies.
In school, they told us something that made much more sense to me. Our OB instructor said comforting an infant immediately is not only all right, it's a good thing. By ignoring the cry and letting the baby "self-soothe", you're basically telling it to meet its own needs, and that can damage the trust it has in its parents. There are obvious exceptions, like colic, where you just can't do anything to meet the needs of the baby. But to let it sit there and cry can even hurt the parent-child trust relationship later on in life.
I just hate that, since she's so new to the world, Lilah can go from happy/content/sleeping to completely frantic in seconds. I know in my head that she's just not used to feeling like she needs anything, since she just came from an environment where all her needs were met without her knowing it. But to look at her poor little face when she's crying, especially when she's just made herself overly tired and is too upset to fall asleep, breaks my heart when I'm trying everything I know to make her happy again. I know it's a temporary phase, but it makes me feel like a horrible parent when I can't do anything for her.
On a lighter note, Dano and I had a semi-serious discussion about how we need to take a break from the Hazards of Love album before we wear it out and ruin it forever. Every day since the talk, he has either caught me sneaking it with the excuse "Lilah likes it", or I've gotten in the car and seen him surreptitiously taking it out of the cd player and inserting something else.
It doesn't help that the end track makes me cry *every* time I hear it. I'm well aware it's a silly story set to gorgeous music with well-written lyrics. William, the prince of a magical forest called the Taiga (ruled by a jealous queen who rescued him from death as an infant and gave him the power to shape-shift into a white fawn) falls in love with a river-daughter named Margaret. Their encounter ends in pregnancy. The queen is enraged and gets a murderer called the Rake to kidnap Margaret and take her across the river, thinking her son would be too scared to cross it. William frantically promises Annan Water, the river, his life if he's allowed to cross once. He rescues his love and attempts to cross back when he's reminded of his promise. As Annan Water comes to claim his life, William and Margaret exchange marriage vows and die together in the water. It sounds like a story you'd read to a little girl before bedtime. It is, really. Colin Meloy, the lead singer and writer for the Decemberists, has a passion for melodrama, tragic love, and drowning. For me, it's just impossible to listen to the hour-long musical tale and not be moved by the ending - " 'With this long last rush of air, we speak our vows and starry whispers.' When the waves came crashing down, he closed his eyes and softly kissed her." Dramatic, yes. Beautiful, absolutely.
The best part of it all - watching Lilah stare at me questioningly every time it makes me cry.
In school, they told us something that made much more sense to me. Our OB instructor said comforting an infant immediately is not only all right, it's a good thing. By ignoring the cry and letting the baby "self-soothe", you're basically telling it to meet its own needs, and that can damage the trust it has in its parents. There are obvious exceptions, like colic, where you just can't do anything to meet the needs of the baby. But to let it sit there and cry can even hurt the parent-child trust relationship later on in life.
I just hate that, since she's so new to the world, Lilah can go from happy/content/sleeping to completely frantic in seconds. I know in my head that she's just not used to feeling like she needs anything, since she just came from an environment where all her needs were met without her knowing it. But to look at her poor little face when she's crying, especially when she's just made herself overly tired and is too upset to fall asleep, breaks my heart when I'm trying everything I know to make her happy again. I know it's a temporary phase, but it makes me feel like a horrible parent when I can't do anything for her.
On a lighter note, Dano and I had a semi-serious discussion about how we need to take a break from the Hazards of Love album before we wear it out and ruin it forever. Every day since the talk, he has either caught me sneaking it with the excuse "Lilah likes it", or I've gotten in the car and seen him surreptitiously taking it out of the cd player and inserting something else.
It doesn't help that the end track makes me cry *every* time I hear it. I'm well aware it's a silly story set to gorgeous music with well-written lyrics. William, the prince of a magical forest called the Taiga (ruled by a jealous queen who rescued him from death as an infant and gave him the power to shape-shift into a white fawn) falls in love with a river-daughter named Margaret. Their encounter ends in pregnancy. The queen is enraged and gets a murderer called the Rake to kidnap Margaret and take her across the river, thinking her son would be too scared to cross it. William frantically promises Annan Water, the river, his life if he's allowed to cross once. He rescues his love and attempts to cross back when he's reminded of his promise. As Annan Water comes to claim his life, William and Margaret exchange marriage vows and die together in the water. It sounds like a story you'd read to a little girl before bedtime. It is, really. Colin Meloy, the lead singer and writer for the Decemberists, has a passion for melodrama, tragic love, and drowning. For me, it's just impossible to listen to the hour-long musical tale and not be moved by the ending - " 'With this long last rush of air, we speak our vows and starry whispers.' When the waves came crashing down, he closed his eyes and softly kissed her." Dramatic, yes. Beautiful, absolutely.
The best part of it all - watching Lilah stare at me questioningly every time it makes me cry.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Week 1
Lilah had her first doctor's appointment today. Dano and I took bets on what she'd weigh, extra chocolate for the winner. He guessed 8lbs (she was 7lb 14oz when we left the hospital). My guess was 8lb 2oz. She weighed in at a whopping 8lbs 4oz. She gained an ounce a day, and an inch since birth. My milk came in with a vengeance, and she's growing like a weed.
I'm not sure how we managed to create a child who is so easy-going. She only cries when she's hungry, has gas, or is lonely and wants held. She wakes up only once during the night to eat, and then either goes back to sleep, or just stays in one of our arms, agreeably looking around the room until she falls asleep again. Sometimes she wakes up another time to be changed. It completely caught me off guard to have a baby who eases in with the rest of the family so flawlessly.
My aunt, uncle, and cousins were up for the weekend. It was so nice to be able to have *my* family around. I love Dano's dearly, but sometimes I feel a little out of the loop. There are lifetime-long inside jokes and traditions that I wasn't a part of. Dano said, only half joking, that he's tempted to just tell Lilah that Kelli and Mike are her grandparents. It had crossed my mind, but I won't lie to my child, even about something like that.
I realize now that Dano had a better approach to preparing for parenthood than I did. He did nothing. I studied, and asked other people, and tried to gather as much information as I possibly could about birth, labor and delivery, and newborns. I completely underestimated every single one of them. I went into the whole experience thinking I had a fairly good handle on everything and was as prepared as I possibly could be. I was so incredibly foolish. Things have been good, Lilah has been a better baby than I could have ever wished for, and I haven't had any postpartum depression or problems with my milk. But I can't believe I thought I actually had a good handle on things. I've been a parent for a grand total of six days, and it hasn't been a thing like I expected. It'll be an interesting 18 years or so.
I'm not sure how we managed to create a child who is so easy-going. She only cries when she's hungry, has gas, or is lonely and wants held. She wakes up only once during the night to eat, and then either goes back to sleep, or just stays in one of our arms, agreeably looking around the room until she falls asleep again. Sometimes she wakes up another time to be changed. It completely caught me off guard to have a baby who eases in with the rest of the family so flawlessly.
My aunt, uncle, and cousins were up for the weekend. It was so nice to be able to have *my* family around. I love Dano's dearly, but sometimes I feel a little out of the loop. There are lifetime-long inside jokes and traditions that I wasn't a part of. Dano said, only half joking, that he's tempted to just tell Lilah that Kelli and Mike are her grandparents. It had crossed my mind, but I won't lie to my child, even about something like that.
I realize now that Dano had a better approach to preparing for parenthood than I did. He did nothing. I studied, and asked other people, and tried to gather as much information as I possibly could about birth, labor and delivery, and newborns. I completely underestimated every single one of them. I went into the whole experience thinking I had a fairly good handle on everything and was as prepared as I possibly could be. I was so incredibly foolish. Things have been good, Lilah has been a better baby than I could have ever wished for, and I haven't had any postpartum depression or problems with my milk. But I can't believe I thought I actually had a good handle on things. I've been a parent for a grand total of six days, and it hasn't been a thing like I expected. It'll be an interesting 18 years or so.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
The Hazards of Love (long, so be prepared)
March 24th, 2009 was a day the Alexander Family had been eagerly awaiting for months. It was the day the new Decemberists album, The Hazards of Love, was coming out. Dano especially couldn't wait and was planning on getting it at Target the day it came out. He went on and on about it all day on the 23rd. As for myself, I had my last prenatal appointment that day. Kim (Dano's sister) was in town on Lilah-watch all weekend. She took me to town for my appointment. We met Ann for lunch first, then I walked across the street to the office. Dr. Hatfield asked what the plan was, and I told her Dr. Hardie said I'd be admitted tonight if nothing had happened. Her face barely changed, but her eyebrow seemed to raise a little. "Is that what you want to do?" I decided to tell the truth.
"No, but she'll be 10 days late by the time she's born if I'm induced tonight. I'm scared to go any longer, and impatient. And we have family in town for the weekend we rarely get to see. They're leaving in a couple days, and I'd hate for them not to see the baby while they're here."
"Okay. I'll call the hospital, and see what we can do." When she came back, she said, "There are 6 scheduled C sections for tomorrow morning, and 9 other women overdue. They can slide you in for tomorrow evening at the soonest. Let's do your exam and you can plan on calling the hospital around 5:00 tomorrow." My heart sank and I hopped up on the table. She did the exam and said my cervix and her head had made serious progress in the 6 days since I'd been seen. "We'll plan on tomorrow, but I hope you don't need it." I smiled and nodded but didn't believe I had the ability to go into labor on my own.
I walked to meet Kim, and we took the boys to the library to play trains. I kept cramping up, but exams do that every time. I was irritated, so I suggested we go get ice creams (the obvious solution for pregnancy-induced irritability). We went to Jilberts, then back to my house. Dano got home, and we all had a really nice spaghetti dinner with "Hot Chocolates By Dano" for dessert (he makes a mean HC). Kim left, and Dano and I watched How I Met Your Mother. I fell asleep on the couch because I was, for no reason in particular, exhausted beyond belief. By about 10:00, Dano had gotten up to play on the computer. Have you ever fallen asleep and had your cell phone vibrate and wake you up? I had a feeling like one bizarre vibration inside me, a weird internal shudder, around 10:45. I opened my eyes and felt a warm flood of fluid. I yelled, bolted off the couch, and stood there as what seemed like gallons of fluid just kept coming as my husband watched in a sort of fascinated, amused disgust. I started shaking and calling/texting people while Dano called the hospital to tell them we were on our way. Out of pure convenience, it was a nice mix of rain and sleet coating the roads and still coming down on the way to MGH.
When we got there, the nursing staff was ready for us. Our nurse, Katie, had me change into a gown and checked to see if the fluid was really my water breaking. The results were "inconclusive", but I was pretty convinced about what had happened. They got me set up on the monitors, and I was having good, regular contractions about every 7-10 minutes (nothing new there). Dr. Hatfield arrived at around midnight looking sleepy, but she acted genuinely pleased I'd come in on my own. She checked my fluid (my water had indeed broken), and my cervix. I had dilated another centimeter since my appointment. She told me she'd stay on the unit until the baby was born, but wanted me to relax and rest so I'd have enough energy to deliver later.
Dano and I walked the halls a little, got a snack in the kitchen, and my contractions became more intense, but nothing big. I'd just sit down through them and close my eyes and think of nice things. Nothing to worry about at all.
At almost 3:00 AM, I got in the sweet whirlpool tub to wind down for a bit. Dano kept me company and helped me caper in and out of the tub. We both tried to get some sleep after that. I tossed and turned a little, and realized that my bladder was very full at 4:00. I got up to take care of that, and hadn't even crawled back into bed before I felt like someone had started putting my lower abdomen through a paper shredder. It lasted almost a minute, and I got back in bed and thought, "Oh, that wasn't fun at all. At least they're only every 7-10 minutes." 4 minutes later, my eyes shot open when it started again. Katie came in to check on me about 30 minutes later after noticing my contractions being stronger and closer together. She told me to let her know if there was anything non-medicinal I wanted to try for the pain (she already knew I was going to try to go natural). My breathing got so heavy that it woke Dano up at 5:00 or so, and he came to sit by me and started my Delivery Playlist on his computer. He held my hand through the contractions, which were going from a pain scale of "This really blows but it's pain I can handle" to "Oh God, there's no way I can do this and live." At 6:00, I looked at him, wide-eyed and panicked, and said, "I've reached my limit, I think. I can't handle pain any worse than this." Another contraction started and I groaned and held my belly. He said, "Baby, I know you can, you're already doing great. You know you don't need anything." He was being the steadfast support person I told him I had wanted him to be weeks ago. I responded by telling him to just not talk.
Katie called Dr. Hatfield to check me. As she did, I told her that I didn't want to give in, but I didn't think I could do it anymore. I thought I'd reached my limit. She smiled (she has such a reassuring smile) and said, "You went from a 4 to an 8 in two hours. This is the transition part of labor, and it's one of the hardest parts. You're an 8, Allison! Do you think you can do this for 2 more centimeters? You'll have your baby so soon." I tried not to cry and nodded, probably looking like a 5 year old. I could do it. Just 2 more, and pushing. How bad could it be?
Katie stayed with me doing charting and coaching me on my breathing. At 6:30, I told her I felt like I had tons of pressure, like I was going to have a bowel movement. That got her on the phone really fast, and Dr. Hatfield came in looking like she was ready to do battle. She got on her stool at the foot of my bed and told me what was happening with my body. My contractions were about every minute at this point, and I felt like I wanted to die when I was having them. It was the weirdest sort of pain. During one, I really thought I would burst into pieces from the pain. In between, my brain would rally all remaining rationality and I'd realize that I was all right, not dead, and nearing the end of all of it. I was coached on how to push, and the two of them kept telling me how great I was doing, and how far I'd come all on my own. I was conscious of Dano next to me, quiet, holding my hand or shoulder, and giving me sips of water when I looked thirsty. I tried to push with some dignity, not wanting to make noise or look stupid. I wasn't allowed to do that more than once. I quickly realized that this point of labor wasn't like anything on the movies, or A Baby Story. It was barbaric, violent, and intensely spiritual. Dr. Hatfield kept telling me the progress the baby was making down the birth canal, and how well my body was doing. It didn't feel like anything was happening. I told her, and she had me reach down and feel the tip of the baby's head. She had hair. I pushed and pushed.
(This next part is what Dano told me happened) I was exhausted and literally passing out between contractions, and just doing what I was told to do when I had them. I would let my head roll back as soon as one subsided, and I recall asking for water a lot. Hours went by, but they felt like minutes. Several times I said I couldn't do it anymore. They just told me I was already doing it, and it wouldn't get better until it was over, and to push. After awhile, Dr. Hatfield looked very serious and told Katie to put oxygen on me. She reached her fingers in to stroke the baby's skull to get her heart rate up. I wasn't worried. I wasn't anything. I didn't even feel like I was there anymore. I felt like I was floating somewhere else far away. The only thought I can recall was noticing Iron and Wine singing Bob Dylan's "Dark Eyes" and what a nice song it was. The horrible pain had gone away, and it was just pressure and pushing and my head was fuzzy. I pushed until 8:30, and finally felt her pass my pubic bone. At that point, I started to actually feel her head. There was an intense burning-feeling they assured me was normal, since her head was starting to crown. I stopped pushing after a contraction, but the feeling didn't ebb away like they had been. Another contraction came and went and I pushed, and stopped after it died down. The feeling just got worse. I thought, "Screw this." If it wasn't going to get better by pausing, this baby had to come out NOW. I didn't breathe. I didn't stop. I didn't wait for contractions. I pushed like I'd die if I didn't (which I believed to be the case). Suddenly, I felt my child emerge in a halo of fire. Dr. Hatfield's face broke into a smile and she told me the head was out. "Now let's meet your baby." I felt a shoulder, and then she was instantly in my arms looking up at me quietly. The song "I Will Possess Your Heart" by Death Cab for Cutie was playing. I remember crying, and saying, "Hi", then "She's so fat!", then "Is she really a girl?" Katie laughed and showed me that she was, indeed, the girl we'd been promised. I noticed then that she was covered in something brown, and that everyone was rubbing her vigorously. She took her time crying. I looked at Dano, who just stared at her with shiny eyes. It took a few minutes for the cord to stop pulsing and get clamped and cut. Then they took her to the warmer and suctioned her. She had been in a little distress during the last part of the delivery and had released meconium (the brown stuff I'd noticed), inhaling about 4 mL of it, along with some blood and fluid. They suctioned it out of her, and she started to cry like a regular baby.
It took about 45 minutes to get me in decent shape again after the placenta was delivered. Dr. Hatfield was very slow and methodical about stitching me up, and made sure I didn't feel anything at all. She was surprised I'd had any tearing, since the pushing was so long and slow, but Lilah's head was very round and big.
They weighed her and measured her - 8 lbs, 3.6 oz, and 19 in long. That was about a pound more than they thought she would weigh from feeling her inside me. Dano carried her around while I was getting fixed up, talking with her and telling her things like, "We're going to have so much fun doing things mommy doesn't like." They asked her official name and how it was spelled - Lilah Rose Marie Alexander.
After all that time, I finally got to hold her and nurse her for the first time. She had the widest, dark-blue eyes, almost black wavy hair, and the longest eyelashes I'd ever seen. Her little lips were pink and pouty, and she was easily the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on.
Since then, she's had lots of visitors, nursed and slept wonderfully, and is generally very agreeable and easy-going. We were allowed to go home at 2:00 PM on the 25th, and now we're just adjusting to our new life as a trinity instead of a duo. She feels like she's been here my whole life.
Oh, we did end up getting the new Decemberists cd after all. Dano's parents picked it up and brought it to us. We decided it should be a birthday present for Lilah - our own little Hazard of Love.
"No, but she'll be 10 days late by the time she's born if I'm induced tonight. I'm scared to go any longer, and impatient. And we have family in town for the weekend we rarely get to see. They're leaving in a couple days, and I'd hate for them not to see the baby while they're here."
"Okay. I'll call the hospital, and see what we can do." When she came back, she said, "There are 6 scheduled C sections for tomorrow morning, and 9 other women overdue. They can slide you in for tomorrow evening at the soonest. Let's do your exam and you can plan on calling the hospital around 5:00 tomorrow." My heart sank and I hopped up on the table. She did the exam and said my cervix and her head had made serious progress in the 6 days since I'd been seen. "We'll plan on tomorrow, but I hope you don't need it." I smiled and nodded but didn't believe I had the ability to go into labor on my own.
I walked to meet Kim, and we took the boys to the library to play trains. I kept cramping up, but exams do that every time. I was irritated, so I suggested we go get ice creams (the obvious solution for pregnancy-induced irritability). We went to Jilberts, then back to my house. Dano got home, and we all had a really nice spaghetti dinner with "Hot Chocolates By Dano" for dessert (he makes a mean HC). Kim left, and Dano and I watched How I Met Your Mother. I fell asleep on the couch because I was, for no reason in particular, exhausted beyond belief. By about 10:00, Dano had gotten up to play on the computer. Have you ever fallen asleep and had your cell phone vibrate and wake you up? I had a feeling like one bizarre vibration inside me, a weird internal shudder, around 10:45. I opened my eyes and felt a warm flood of fluid. I yelled, bolted off the couch, and stood there as what seemed like gallons of fluid just kept coming as my husband watched in a sort of fascinated, amused disgust. I started shaking and calling/texting people while Dano called the hospital to tell them we were on our way. Out of pure convenience, it was a nice mix of rain and sleet coating the roads and still coming down on the way to MGH.
When we got there, the nursing staff was ready for us. Our nurse, Katie, had me change into a gown and checked to see if the fluid was really my water breaking. The results were "inconclusive", but I was pretty convinced about what had happened. They got me set up on the monitors, and I was having good, regular contractions about every 7-10 minutes (nothing new there). Dr. Hatfield arrived at around midnight looking sleepy, but she acted genuinely pleased I'd come in on my own. She checked my fluid (my water had indeed broken), and my cervix. I had dilated another centimeter since my appointment. She told me she'd stay on the unit until the baby was born, but wanted me to relax and rest so I'd have enough energy to deliver later.
Dano and I walked the halls a little, got a snack in the kitchen, and my contractions became more intense, but nothing big. I'd just sit down through them and close my eyes and think of nice things. Nothing to worry about at all.
At almost 3:00 AM, I got in the sweet whirlpool tub to wind down for a bit. Dano kept me company and helped me caper in and out of the tub. We both tried to get some sleep after that. I tossed and turned a little, and realized that my bladder was very full at 4:00. I got up to take care of that, and hadn't even crawled back into bed before I felt like someone had started putting my lower abdomen through a paper shredder. It lasted almost a minute, and I got back in bed and thought, "Oh, that wasn't fun at all. At least they're only every 7-10 minutes." 4 minutes later, my eyes shot open when it started again. Katie came in to check on me about 30 minutes later after noticing my contractions being stronger and closer together. She told me to let her know if there was anything non-medicinal I wanted to try for the pain (she already knew I was going to try to go natural). My breathing got so heavy that it woke Dano up at 5:00 or so, and he came to sit by me and started my Delivery Playlist on his computer. He held my hand through the contractions, which were going from a pain scale of "This really blows but it's pain I can handle" to "Oh God, there's no way I can do this and live." At 6:00, I looked at him, wide-eyed and panicked, and said, "I've reached my limit, I think. I can't handle pain any worse than this." Another contraction started and I groaned and held my belly. He said, "Baby, I know you can, you're already doing great. You know you don't need anything." He was being the steadfast support person I told him I had wanted him to be weeks ago. I responded by telling him to just not talk.
Katie called Dr. Hatfield to check me. As she did, I told her that I didn't want to give in, but I didn't think I could do it anymore. I thought I'd reached my limit. She smiled (she has such a reassuring smile) and said, "You went from a 4 to an 8 in two hours. This is the transition part of labor, and it's one of the hardest parts. You're an 8, Allison! Do you think you can do this for 2 more centimeters? You'll have your baby so soon." I tried not to cry and nodded, probably looking like a 5 year old. I could do it. Just 2 more, and pushing. How bad could it be?
Katie stayed with me doing charting and coaching me on my breathing. At 6:30, I told her I felt like I had tons of pressure, like I was going to have a bowel movement. That got her on the phone really fast, and Dr. Hatfield came in looking like she was ready to do battle. She got on her stool at the foot of my bed and told me what was happening with my body. My contractions were about every minute at this point, and I felt like I wanted to die when I was having them. It was the weirdest sort of pain. During one, I really thought I would burst into pieces from the pain. In between, my brain would rally all remaining rationality and I'd realize that I was all right, not dead, and nearing the end of all of it. I was coached on how to push, and the two of them kept telling me how great I was doing, and how far I'd come all on my own. I was conscious of Dano next to me, quiet, holding my hand or shoulder, and giving me sips of water when I looked thirsty. I tried to push with some dignity, not wanting to make noise or look stupid. I wasn't allowed to do that more than once. I quickly realized that this point of labor wasn't like anything on the movies, or A Baby Story. It was barbaric, violent, and intensely spiritual. Dr. Hatfield kept telling me the progress the baby was making down the birth canal, and how well my body was doing. It didn't feel like anything was happening. I told her, and she had me reach down and feel the tip of the baby's head. She had hair. I pushed and pushed.
(This next part is what Dano told me happened) I was exhausted and literally passing out between contractions, and just doing what I was told to do when I had them. I would let my head roll back as soon as one subsided, and I recall asking for water a lot. Hours went by, but they felt like minutes. Several times I said I couldn't do it anymore. They just told me I was already doing it, and it wouldn't get better until it was over, and to push. After awhile, Dr. Hatfield looked very serious and told Katie to put oxygen on me. She reached her fingers in to stroke the baby's skull to get her heart rate up. I wasn't worried. I wasn't anything. I didn't even feel like I was there anymore. I felt like I was floating somewhere else far away. The only thought I can recall was noticing Iron and Wine singing Bob Dylan's "Dark Eyes" and what a nice song it was. The horrible pain had gone away, and it was just pressure and pushing and my head was fuzzy. I pushed until 8:30, and finally felt her pass my pubic bone. At that point, I started to actually feel her head. There was an intense burning-feeling they assured me was normal, since her head was starting to crown. I stopped pushing after a contraction, but the feeling didn't ebb away like they had been. Another contraction came and went and I pushed, and stopped after it died down. The feeling just got worse. I thought, "Screw this." If it wasn't going to get better by pausing, this baby had to come out NOW. I didn't breathe. I didn't stop. I didn't wait for contractions. I pushed like I'd die if I didn't (which I believed to be the case). Suddenly, I felt my child emerge in a halo of fire. Dr. Hatfield's face broke into a smile and she told me the head was out. "Now let's meet your baby." I felt a shoulder, and then she was instantly in my arms looking up at me quietly. The song "I Will Possess Your Heart" by Death Cab for Cutie was playing. I remember crying, and saying, "Hi", then "She's so fat!", then "Is she really a girl?" Katie laughed and showed me that she was, indeed, the girl we'd been promised. I noticed then that she was covered in something brown, and that everyone was rubbing her vigorously. She took her time crying. I looked at Dano, who just stared at her with shiny eyes. It took a few minutes for the cord to stop pulsing and get clamped and cut. Then they took her to the warmer and suctioned her. She had been in a little distress during the last part of the delivery and had released meconium (the brown stuff I'd noticed), inhaling about 4 mL of it, along with some blood and fluid. They suctioned it out of her, and she started to cry like a regular baby.
It took about 45 minutes to get me in decent shape again after the placenta was delivered. Dr. Hatfield was very slow and methodical about stitching me up, and made sure I didn't feel anything at all. She was surprised I'd had any tearing, since the pushing was so long and slow, but Lilah's head was very round and big.
They weighed her and measured her - 8 lbs, 3.6 oz, and 19 in long. That was about a pound more than they thought she would weigh from feeling her inside me. Dano carried her around while I was getting fixed up, talking with her and telling her things like, "We're going to have so much fun doing things mommy doesn't like." They asked her official name and how it was spelled - Lilah Rose Marie Alexander.
After all that time, I finally got to hold her and nurse her for the first time. She had the widest, dark-blue eyes, almost black wavy hair, and the longest eyelashes I'd ever seen. Her little lips were pink and pouty, and she was easily the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on.
Since then, she's had lots of visitors, nursed and slept wonderfully, and is generally very agreeable and easy-going. We were allowed to go home at 2:00 PM on the 25th, and now we're just adjusting to our new life as a trinity instead of a duo. She feels like she's been here my whole life.
Oh, we did end up getting the new Decemberists cd after all. Dano's parents picked it up and brought it to us. We decided it should be a birthday present for Lilah - our own little Hazard of Love.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
St. Patrick's Round 2
First of all, I wanted to thank everyone who reads this for being so incredibly patient and supportive. This pregnancy has flown by and has been such a blessing up to this point, and then it seems like one day my tolerance just ran completely dry. There are times that I know I'm being a complete psychopath in my head, but that doesn't stop me from being one anyway. The closer I get to delivering, the more emotional I get when it comes to how things are with my family and how I feel about being a mother myself. Sometimes I just let it get to me too much.
On lighter note, my day made a rapid turnaround thanks to (as usual) my husband. We were talking online while he was at school, and I was venting some of my fears and insecurities about having to be induced, and dreading my appointment, and he finally said the one thing I'd been dying to hear from someone. "I know. It sucks." He didn't try to tell me to get over it, or tell me how I'll look back and miss this time, or how I should be more optimistic and less of a fatalist (all true, and all things I know already). He just let me know that he was hearing what I was saying, and that he knew it sucked. My response was to thank him and (big surprise) cry a lot. I know. I'm insane.
I left to go to my appointment then, and got a large package in the mail. Now, I don't know about you, but getting a package in the mail always makes things seem brighter. It's like the world is saying, "There are wars and starving children and plagues, but someone thinks enough of you to send you a present." An old friend had sent a box full of adorable clothes for the baby. I smiled for the second time today.
I tried to start my car, but it decided that was optional and just wouldn't turn on. It tried and tried, but did nothing. Finally a neighbor who heard it trying to start came over and asked me to pop my hood. He jiggled a few things and said everything looked fine, but the spark plugs might need replacing. He said he lived just across the alley and is out working on his truck a lot in the summer, and we should feel free to "come on over and shoot the breeze" from time to time. That earned my third smile of the day. Say what you want about "Southern hospitality" and all that, but I've met so many more friendly, down-to-earth strangers here than in TN.
At my appointment, I only waited for about ten minutes this time. The nurse weighed me and said I was losing weight, which is a good sign I'm about to go into labor. "I'm not sure exactly why that is," She said. I told her my theory. "It's too uncomfortable to eat at this point." She laughed and said that just might be it. My BP is the same, and she had me gown up while she got out the dreaded sterile gloves and bottle of lubricant, so I knew I was in for a fun time.
When Dr. Hardie got in, we talked about birth control options for breastfeeding, and about not clamping the umbilical cord until it stops pulsing so the baby gets the most blood and good stuff it possibly can. They practice that anyway, but a lot of doctors just clamp it right off. He listened to the baby's heartbeat and that still sounded good. It still accelerates when she moves around, so she's not declining in there. That was a relief. Placentas only hold up for so many months before they start to waste away. Mine's still working. He felt her position and said she was -2 and too engaged to move out of the birth canal now. He offered to strip my membranes and do a cervical stretch. Pretty much that consists of trying to separate the amniotic sac from the base of the cervix, and the irritation can start labor. He checked me and said he could stretch me to a 3, and did the stripping until I cramped up a lot. He said there's no point in torturing mothers who are about to go into labor anyway, and he just strips until it's painful. I got up the nerve to ask about when they induce. He said it goes by the size of the baby's head. Based on Lilah's head and how it was feeling in my pelvis, he said I'd be allowed to go to 41 weeks. We made an appointment with Dr. Hatfield for next Monday, and if I haven't had her or progressed considerably by then, they'll have me go to the hospital that night or the next and spend the night after they apply prostaglandin gel. If that doesn't get things going, they start a pitocin drip the next morning. He finished with, "But you won't need any of that. You're making really good progress. I hope I see you back here tonight." I felt good about that, even though I know it's entirely possible he just knows what NOT to say to a pregnant woman.
So basically, I have seven days to get this baby out on my own. No pressure.
On lighter note, my day made a rapid turnaround thanks to (as usual) my husband. We were talking online while he was at school, and I was venting some of my fears and insecurities about having to be induced, and dreading my appointment, and he finally said the one thing I'd been dying to hear from someone. "I know. It sucks." He didn't try to tell me to get over it, or tell me how I'll look back and miss this time, or how I should be more optimistic and less of a fatalist (all true, and all things I know already). He just let me know that he was hearing what I was saying, and that he knew it sucked. My response was to thank him and (big surprise) cry a lot. I know. I'm insane.
I left to go to my appointment then, and got a large package in the mail. Now, I don't know about you, but getting a package in the mail always makes things seem brighter. It's like the world is saying, "There are wars and starving children and plagues, but someone thinks enough of you to send you a present." An old friend had sent a box full of adorable clothes for the baby. I smiled for the second time today.
I tried to start my car, but it decided that was optional and just wouldn't turn on. It tried and tried, but did nothing. Finally a neighbor who heard it trying to start came over and asked me to pop my hood. He jiggled a few things and said everything looked fine, but the spark plugs might need replacing. He said he lived just across the alley and is out working on his truck a lot in the summer, and we should feel free to "come on over and shoot the breeze" from time to time. That earned my third smile of the day. Say what you want about "Southern hospitality" and all that, but I've met so many more friendly, down-to-earth strangers here than in TN.
At my appointment, I only waited for about ten minutes this time. The nurse weighed me and said I was losing weight, which is a good sign I'm about to go into labor. "I'm not sure exactly why that is," She said. I told her my theory. "It's too uncomfortable to eat at this point." She laughed and said that just might be it. My BP is the same, and she had me gown up while she got out the dreaded sterile gloves and bottle of lubricant, so I knew I was in for a fun time.
When Dr. Hardie got in, we talked about birth control options for breastfeeding, and about not clamping the umbilical cord until it stops pulsing so the baby gets the most blood and good stuff it possibly can. They practice that anyway, but a lot of doctors just clamp it right off. He listened to the baby's heartbeat and that still sounded good. It still accelerates when she moves around, so she's not declining in there. That was a relief. Placentas only hold up for so many months before they start to waste away. Mine's still working. He felt her position and said she was -2 and too engaged to move out of the birth canal now. He offered to strip my membranes and do a cervical stretch. Pretty much that consists of trying to separate the amniotic sac from the base of the cervix, and the irritation can start labor. He checked me and said he could stretch me to a 3, and did the stripping until I cramped up a lot. He said there's no point in torturing mothers who are about to go into labor anyway, and he just strips until it's painful. I got up the nerve to ask about when they induce. He said it goes by the size of the baby's head. Based on Lilah's head and how it was feeling in my pelvis, he said I'd be allowed to go to 41 weeks. We made an appointment with Dr. Hatfield for next Monday, and if I haven't had her or progressed considerably by then, they'll have me go to the hospital that night or the next and spend the night after they apply prostaglandin gel. If that doesn't get things going, they start a pitocin drip the next morning. He finished with, "But you won't need any of that. You're making really good progress. I hope I see you back here tonight." I felt good about that, even though I know it's entirely possible he just knows what NOT to say to a pregnant woman.
So basically, I have seven days to get this baby out on my own. No pressure.
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