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.
Monday, March 30, 2009
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.
Happy St. Patrick's Day.
I feel that I have reached the end of my rope. I gave up on trying to be hopeful and optimistic and have comfortably settled into a state of constantly pissed off and miserable. Why, you ask? Because attempting to smile and be happy irritates me. Today I made a mental list of things that make me want to kick puppies.
1. People telling me to hang in there.
2. People giving me advice on how to get babies to come out.
3. People touching me.
4. People.
5. Losing solitaire.
6. Winning solitaire, because then I'm bored and not distracted anymore.
7. Nightmares that successfully ruin the next day because they're so awful.
8. The constant reminder that Twilight is coming out on DVD for only 17 dollars at Wal-Mart. I don't know how many times I can hear Bella claim she's NOT afraid of sparkly vampires without throwing things at the TV.
9. Knowing that my husband cannot read minds and make me feel better, but needing him to do both anyway.
10. Happy music.
11. Sad music.
12. Having to walk through the nursery to get to the bathroom, since there's no baby in it (just a cat who has adopted the space as her own personal loft).
13. Thinking about money and work.
14. Knowing how badly I want my body to have this baby on its own, but not feeling strong enough to hold out until I *have* to be induced.
15. Knowing that my appointment today won't be anymore insightful than the last 4 have been, yet being required to go in an hour anyway.
16. Not being able to eat or recline at all, since the baby is too big for me to breathe if I do either.
That's all I came up with so far. I'm sure there are more. I'll update after my super-fantastic appointment at 3:00 I guess. It's St. Patrick's Day, and I want to celebrate it in full Irish fashion.
1. People telling me to hang in there.
2. People giving me advice on how to get babies to come out.
3. People touching me.
4. People.
5. Losing solitaire.
6. Winning solitaire, because then I'm bored and not distracted anymore.
7. Nightmares that successfully ruin the next day because they're so awful.
8. The constant reminder that Twilight is coming out on DVD for only 17 dollars at Wal-Mart. I don't know how many times I can hear Bella claim she's NOT afraid of sparkly vampires without throwing things at the TV.
9. Knowing that my husband cannot read minds and make me feel better, but needing him to do both anyway.
10. Happy music.
11. Sad music.
12. Having to walk through the nursery to get to the bathroom, since there's no baby in it (just a cat who has adopted the space as her own personal loft).
13. Thinking about money and work.
14. Knowing how badly I want my body to have this baby on its own, but not feeling strong enough to hold out until I *have* to be induced.
15. Knowing that my appointment today won't be anymore insightful than the last 4 have been, yet being required to go in an hour anyway.
16. Not being able to eat or recline at all, since the baby is too big for me to breathe if I do either.
That's all I came up with so far. I'm sure there are more. I'll update after my super-fantastic appointment at 3:00 I guess. It's St. Patrick's Day, and I want to celebrate it in full Irish fashion.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Meditation
I've been getting irritated beyond belief with being pregnant, and yesterday was the day to crown all irritating days. I had my fourth once-a-week appointment. If I make it to my next one, I'll be overdue. I'm glad no one has been cute enough to give me the line, "Babies are never overdue; they come exactly when God wants them to." All I know is that I've been carrying her 40 weeks, and I'm tired of it. Noah thought he had it bad being on a boat 40 days and 40 nights. That was a cruise.
Anyway, I went to my appointment, only to be told the doctors were running about 30 minutes behind. An hour and a half later, the nurse took me back, weighed me (no change), took my vitals (no change), and asked me some questions (no change there either). She said the doctor would be in any minute. 30 minutes later (two hours after my appointment was scheduled), Dr. Stevens came in. He's the most quiet and impersonal of the three doctors, and I've been keeping my fingers crossed that he's not on call when I deliver. He motioned for me to hop on the table, and he felt the baby's position and remarked (like they do every week) at how low her head was, and that he was surprised labor hadn't started already. He asked about swelling and contractions, and told me they'd see me back in a week if I didn't go into labor, "But it should be any time now." I smiled while contemplating knocking a few of his teeth in. All said and done, I was seen for less than 10 minutes after waiting two hours. I texted Dano on the way back to the car that I wasn't coming to any more appointments. I can do everything they do at home myself, and not drive 25 minutes to be frustrated and told the same thing. They always just make me mad.
I mentioned in passing yesterday night that I was half-afraid that I was subconsciously keeping myself from going into labor because I didn't believe my body could do it. When we were going to bed, Dano suggested telling my body it was okay, that I believed it could do it. I said, "How am I supposed to tell it that when I don't believe it?" He said, "I tell myself I can do things I don't believe every day. The demons will always be there. It's just what you do."
At bedtime, I was tossing and turning, not sleeping, and poking Dano every few minutes if he'd start to grind his teeth in his sleep (the dentist messed up a tooth and it makes him grind them sometimes). I decided to meditate a little on my body, and believing in it. Something echoed in the back of my mind, someone saying that they pictured their body as a flower during birth - opening and unveiling a baby inside. That appealed to me for some reason. No one tells flowers when to bloom - they just know and they open.
I closed my eyes and blocked out everything else. I pictured a green stem with a bud on the end of it. I told my mind, "This is a flower. This flower is me." I thought, "Maybe it's a lotus, or a lily. Or a Lilah-flower. A Lilah-Rose." I giggled at myself for my dumb pun. I breathed deeply and pictured the brown outer-wrapping of the bud peeling back and falling away, and the green covering unfolding around the stem, leaving the naked petals exposed, but still closed tightly. I watched the petals shiver a little, then slowly open a little bit at a time, one by one, until you could almost look inside the flower itself, but not quite. The flower took a break, and then made the final transition from stubborn spring bud into open blossom. Inside, I pictured my baby curled up and sleeping inside a dew drop. Then I watched the petals shiver one last time, and the dew drop spilled over the side of the flower like too many drops of water balanced on top of a penny.
That was the last thing I remember before falling asleep, and most likely it was just a silly way of calming myself enough to get to sleep, but for some reason, I feel more peaceful about it. If the flowers were created to know when to open, and the birds always know when spring is here and it's time to fly North again, maybe my body will just know that it's time to give up what it's been hiding, and bring a baby out into the world.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Last appointment
Today was Appointment 3 out of 4 of my once a week appointments. I pretty much get rotated through whichever of the doctors is on call now - Stevens, Hardie, or Hatfield. Dr. Hatfield is the only female, and my regular doctor, but whoever is on call at the time will deliver Lilah when I go into labor. I saw Dr. Hardie today, and I really like him. He's a very thin man with a long, white ponytail. He laughs a lot and is really laid back. I still like Dr. Hatfield better, because Dr. Hardie is so quick and matter-of-fact about his exams. He had Lilah's position and heartbeat done and charted before I knew what was going on!
He wanted to know my birth preferences (Daniel had to pipe up with, "Don't worry, she has a list."), so I told him that I just wanted things to be able to progress as naturally as possible, as long as everything was going well. He said that he had no problems with no IV or monitors, and would tell the nurses that as soon as he made rounds, if he was on call when I came in. Apparently, the nurses can get a little feisty if things aren't allowed to be monitored and controlled. If pregnancy has taught me anything, it's that it is completely unpredictable and subjective from one person to the next.
He asked, not knowing the sex, if we preferred to circumcise our baby if it was a boy. We both emphatically said, "NO!" at the same time. His eyebrows went up, and he said, "Good for you. Even the most hardcore hippies these days want their boys circumcised." I told him about my experience in nursing school watching the circumcisions, and seeing the poor little babies strapped down and screaming, all while the doctor was slicing away at their tiny penises and saying, "It really doesn't hurt them. They just don't like being strapped down." I watched those little faces turn red from screaming and screw up in pain, and I swore I'd never do that to my baby. If he minds that much when he's older, he can have it done when he's old enough to decide for himself. Dr. Hardie said it was one of the only medical procedures this practice won't perform, because they firmly believe it's child abuse. He said he's even seen a few performed later on in life for various reasons, and they're usually avoidable. Even with phimosis (a condition where the foreskin can partially close up over the urinary meatus [the "pee hole", for lack of a better explanation] and makes it difficult or impossible to urinate), steroid cream and estrogen can open it back up and correct the problem in most cases, he told us.
Sorry for the penis rant. Anyway, he said we'd make the last appointment and hope not to make it until then. He asked if I'd lost my mucous plug or had any bloody show (gross, I know, but pregnancy isn't always magical), and if I was having regular contractions. I told him yes, yes, and yes, but only for half-hour periods. He said my body's all set, and he'd hope to see me at the hospital any day. I sure hope he's right!
He wanted to know my birth preferences (Daniel had to pipe up with, "Don't worry, she has a list."), so I told him that I just wanted things to be able to progress as naturally as possible, as long as everything was going well. He said that he had no problems with no IV or monitors, and would tell the nurses that as soon as he made rounds, if he was on call when I came in. Apparently, the nurses can get a little feisty if things aren't allowed to be monitored and controlled. If pregnancy has taught me anything, it's that it is completely unpredictable and subjective from one person to the next.
He asked, not knowing the sex, if we preferred to circumcise our baby if it was a boy. We both emphatically said, "NO!" at the same time. His eyebrows went up, and he said, "Good for you. Even the most hardcore hippies these days want their boys circumcised." I told him about my experience in nursing school watching the circumcisions, and seeing the poor little babies strapped down and screaming, all while the doctor was slicing away at their tiny penises and saying, "It really doesn't hurt them. They just don't like being strapped down." I watched those little faces turn red from screaming and screw up in pain, and I swore I'd never do that to my baby. If he minds that much when he's older, he can have it done when he's old enough to decide for himself. Dr. Hardie said it was one of the only medical procedures this practice won't perform, because they firmly believe it's child abuse. He said he's even seen a few performed later on in life for various reasons, and they're usually avoidable. Even with phimosis (a condition where the foreskin can partially close up over the urinary meatus [the "pee hole", for lack of a better explanation] and makes it difficult or impossible to urinate), steroid cream and estrogen can open it back up and correct the problem in most cases, he told us.
Sorry for the penis rant. Anyway, he said we'd make the last appointment and hope not to make it until then. He asked if I'd lost my mucous plug or had any bloody show (gross, I know, but pregnancy isn't always magical), and if I was having regular contractions. I told him yes, yes, and yes, but only for half-hour periods. He said my body's all set, and he'd hope to see me at the hospital any day. I sure hope he's right!
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