Here we are!

Baby Esme is about to turn 7 months--in about 3 days. It's wonderful & I miss her terribly all of the seconds that I am away from her. I definitely elieve women should have a year off to spend with their babies--12 weeks is just not enough time. As it turns out Esme is a pretty small baby. She is still at the 13% for weight, though she did end up getting longer. It's even harder to leave a tiny baby behind, only because they are so fragile. In retrospect, now that she is 14-15 lbs, it still seems weird to remember her at only 7 lbs. It took us 12 weeks to get her up to 9 lbs, and she was always drowning in her 3 month clothes. Thank goodness for the newborn sizes! Here's a recap of her last several months: Day 1 home from the hospital happened around 2-3 PM. The radio was playing "Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes" on the drive home, which I found adorable. The whole world seemed different to us, everything was white, there was no traffic, and the house had somehow altered upon our return back home. We decided pretty quickly that I would just stay up with the baby at night when she cried, because it really wasn't worth it to make both people tired when only one person can meet the baby's needs. And that was me! We were able to get a really decent latch going when we got home & nursing didn't hurt at all. (Still nursing now, at 7 months, though I must supplement with formula a lot) I still recall that odd feeling of isolation on the first night, though. Dan was asleep, I'd turned off all of the lights, and then...waited for my turn to sleep. I vowed that I would always keep the baby in her back, in the crib, and never co-sleep, but even by night 2 I realized this was futile. Around week 4 or 5, we figured out side by side nursing and never really gave it up. Esme just kept nursing and nursing and nursing, even when it seemed like she was asleep, her jaw was still munching. Even when other people held her in her sleep, she was still munching. I figured I'd place her in her bassinet for her 2 hour long nighttime snoozes, but she instantly woke up as soon as placed down. But I could hardly complain about holding a sleeping baby and keeping her close to me. And still, it was lovely. On our second or third day, a visiting nurse came to the house to weigh the baby and examine her. I showed her the latch & Esme's sleeping habits, and it seemed that Esme was still swallowing milk, even though she was asleep. So I continued to nurse her, even if she wasn't eating, because I didn't have a way to tell if she was eating or not. Esme never really adjusted to the bottle--we waited until 4 weeks of age to try----and she hated it. We tried again and again and again, and she would scream and cry and fight, until I gave up and nursed her. Consequently, I learned how to nurse in a lot of new places: The bank The skyway Front seat of the car on the toilet every restaurant, etc But it was still lovely. Esme gained compliments and attracted people wherever she went, including 1) Grocery store, where someone asked if she was a real baby 2) Ice cream parlor, where a woman could not get over her perfect features and perfectly shaped round head 3) doctor's office, where a woman in a wheelchair desperately wanted to hold her 4) Mall of America, where many, many people admired her again 5) any place at all, where people would tell her that she was the cutest baby they'd seen that day, more beautiful than the other babies, and confide in us that not all babies are cute, but we were able to get a cute one. I often heard that she looks just like me. On the second week, I stared at her so much--she really did look like me as a baby. A lot. It was unsettling to hold yourself as a child, to be honest. But still it was lovely. My biggest memories back then were 1) How bulky I was--I am still 1 lb away from pre-pregnancy weight and thus lumbered around like a whale. 2) How small she was 3) How lonely I seemed, without a TV to watch while nursing, i was just watching junk on Netflix. I quickly tired of the selection and gave up & cancelled my subscription. I managed to catch a few things, though, like "House of Cards" on Netflix. awesome show. And even now, Esme is still lovely.

Another Birth Story

Wowzer, time flies with a newborn. This is literally the first time I've been able to sit down with a sleeping baby AND have access to a computer. On Esmé's 10th day of life, someone broke in to our house and stole our laptops and kindles, so typing has been a bit belated.

ANYWAY! I was going to tell you the story of Esmé's delivery. 
**********Don't read this if birth stories gross you out.**********

Well, the first night, I was just waiting for my cervix to dilate, and while doing so, was connected to an IV of morphine, which meant we had to be on fetal monitoring overnight. I was sleeping on my side (poor Dan had to sleep on the most uncomfortable & drafty bed, ever) and the baby kept moving away from the monitor. So about every 20 minutes, a nurse would come in and reattach the monitor and search for the baby. Luckily her heart rate was always strong. It was hard to sleep and as I mentioned, we watched a few episodes of Firefly. Also, Lord of the Rings was on--which was lovely. It's been so long since I've seen it, I kept forgetting about each scene in the movie. 

During the insertion of the foley bulb, the nurse mused the mthat my pain tolerance seemed quite high and i tried to say that it was orphine, but in reality, I was in a great deal of pain--but didn't want to admit to it.

 Around 4:30 in the morning, after being awakened a bazillion times in the middle of the night, the nursemidwife came to check on the foley-bulb, which is something they insert to quicken the dilation, and my water broke. I'd also made it to 3cm, which was where I needed to be to begin the  contractions.  I didn't want to forget what time it had happened, so I sent myself an email: water broke.

At this time, I had one more quick IV of morphine and then we began the smallest dose of pitocin. I was very *anti*pitocin--it's like the EVIL DRUG of birthing--at least that's how it's portrayed these days. However, there was no choice--the baby needed to come out now that her amniotic fluid had broken. At this time, I also had an IV of pencillian since I was Group B strep positive. (yuck/>)

And so we began contractions. One every 5 minutes. I thought I could handle them--but I couldn't. A doula was sent in to help. I was struggling a LOT with the pain. Dan helped me a lot, but if he wasn't with me during the contraction, I got scared. I didn't know how to breathe through it. I panicked each time. 

Our doula came and really got me through the next 4 hours of contractions--she helped me breathe each time. I tried to walk around and nearly fell asleep standing up. I lost track of every single conversation we were having. I talked about imaginary people (the doula's sons? She doesn't have any sons.) My teeth started chattering uncontrollably. I drank orange juice, water, and had some food. Still chattering. I was shaking. Around noon, I asked for an epidural. Then I recanted. "I don't need the epidural!" Then I'd have a contraction and decide I wanted it. 

Finally, around 3 PM, I'd had enough. Yes, yes, yes, I definitely wanted the epidural. I had to wait for the IV to come so I could have enough fluid to accept the epidural. We also had to find someone to administer it--and it turned out to be THE DIRECTOR of the anesthesiology department for the whole hospital. The poor man took about 3 phone calls (and mentioned he'd have to do that) before we could administer it. During that time, we checked to see how many cm dilated I was. The answer: 4 cm. After nearly 11 hours, I'd only gone up one centimeter. Ugh. It solidified my decision to go for the epidural. 

It was wonderful. I didn't feel anything for awhile. I could take my nap. The nurses bumped up the pitocin for me to increase the contractions, which displayed on a pretty board for me to watch & not feel.

Around 5:45pm or 6pm, though, I started to feel a lot of pressure. It felt like...well, it felt like it was time to start pushing. I mentioned it to the nurse, who said that it wasn't likely that I'd feel that so soon. I said that I felt something, though, and gave myself another dose of the epidural medication. (Push this button!) The nurse did check and was surprised that I was at 9 cm already. 

I was sort of surprised, too. Poor Dan had snuck off to a corner to try to get a nap as well, since he really needed it. The nurse said I could start pushing as much as I felt like--and they would get set up for delivery. I remember they moved a bunch of stuff around, but I was just focused on pushing with the contractions.

And I really started to feel it. I know I had the epidural, and they said I'd feel the pressure, but not the pain--yet it seemed I was feeling both.

Nurse change-over in the hospital is from 6:30pm-7pm--so both nursemidwifes were in the room with me. I felt bad, I wanted to delay the delivery for them until after their shift, but there was really no stopping it. I said a lot of weird things while pushing. 

"I'm afraid of the dark!"

I asked for the forceps and extraction. They were, of course, denied, since they weren't necessary. I started crying, twice. I was ordered to stop crying, since that could make me hyperventilate. Of course, that made me angry, since I didn't cry tooooo much while pregnant, I felt that at least I should be able to cry during delivery. But I needed to save that energy for pushing. 

The TV show "The Family Guy" came on in the background and I asked Dan to turn it off. The doula, Hawa, also went to turn it off, and thus the Family Guy came back on. I really just didn't want the baby to be born with that show on! Luckily the TV stayed off the second time.

And so I just had to keep pushing. I was to hold each push for 10 seconds--and even getting there was hard. Dan encouraged me, he said I was getting closer, but I felt like he was lying. How did he know?

And then, after more pushing and after I swore a LOT, Esme was born. 6:55 pm. 6.5 lbs. 

I got to pull her up right away, the nurse allowed me to do it right away. They cut the cord while I was wiggling her up my abdomen and I got to stare at my crying bundle wrapped in a receiving blanket and full of afterbirth. I told her that I loved her and that I've been waiting for her for so long, and for some reason started talking to her about her college account. 

"college?" the nurse laughed.

She's the class of 2031, we calculated.

After a bit, they took her with Dan to be bathed and weighed and measured and listened to her lungs. I couldn't walk, so he took the photos for me of her first bath. 

And then it was just all of the normal-post-delivery recovery. You feel so uncomfortable, there's a ton of blood, but you don't care beause your baby is with you. Esme was born the weekend of a massive snowstorm. 

Inducement

I want to finish thr rest of the birth story before we get too far.

 Eventually, the nurse told me that we were going to induce because sending me home would probably just result in the later development of preclampsia. Since  we were already past the due date, inducement wasn't the worst choice. They walked me down the hallway to a very large birthing room. I almost gasped. "wow, this is beautiful!"
Nurse: "Yes, it is, isn't it. This is our largest room, we call it the ballroom, since it's so large."
me: : "Well, I feel really lucky that we get to have it."

By this time, Dan had gone home to grab the birth bag and other stuff (Food! Movies! And letting the doggie outside) . I sincerely did believe that no matter what happened, I would have time to go home and get my stuff and pack a few things in it. Wrong-o. :) I went straight from work, as mentioned before, which also resulted in my car being stuck in the parking lot near my office.

At this point, the nurses warned me that inducement would take a long time. It could be 3 days, they said. I agreed. Since  I wasn't dilated at all, and only 90% effaced, there was a lot to do, naturally.

Please note: if you don't want to read about birth, the cervix and what-not, skip out now!

We used cervi-pro to begin the dilation. I was given morphine via IV (They said it would be like a cocktail, which was exciting. "I haven't had a cocktail in nearly 9 months!" Which of course, isn't entirely true, I had a few sips of alcohol the whole time)
Then they used (for lack of a better term) the "cervical gun" to begin the dilation process.

Eventually Dan came back--stressed and hurried. He was trying to get everything and do everything without forgetting anything.  Since I was on a morphine drip (I really didn't know this would be necessary during dilation, but ok...),  I was also connected to the fetal monitors. Dan and I settled in for awhile and began watching a tv show while we waited. The nurse was even kind enough to angle my bed so I could watch Firefly on the DVD.

And thus began our long night of fetal monitoring.

A Birth Story--part 1

How is babby born?  (internet meme)

The day was 2/7, a Thursday. I was at work, near the end of the day and....I was dizzy.  I thought maybe I just needed to eat something, so I did. On the brief walk to the microwave,  the world spun  & back at my desk, my vision blurred, too.

uh oh. Normally, I'd do nothing; suck it up and go home. Yet at 40 weeks + 1 day, just ignoring it was a bad idea.

"Hi, I am over 40 weeks pregnant and just had some symptoms..." I said to the nurse-line at the hospital.
They asked if I could have my blood pressure taken at work. I said yes, and went to the nurse in my office. Taken twice, my distolic was still in the 90s, we called the hospital and they said to come on over.  (My dystolic bp is usually in the 70s.)

My company placed me in a taxi and refused to allow me to pay for the short cab ride to
the hospital. (5 blocks). When I plodded into the 4th floor of the  hospital, we connected to some monitors and they said I would probably go home after a few hours. I called Dan anyway and told him what was happening. He left work a little early and came over. Meanwhile,  I enjoyed the marvel of watching the Big10 network and CSPAN on cable and the hospital provided dinner for me.

"Dinner? I feel guilty eating dinner here if I am going home," I thought to myself.

You know the end to the story already--I did not get to go home. My blood pressure kept going up and since I was already passed the due date, they decided it was time to induce me. I walked down the hall to the midwife unit while Dan raced home to grab the official baby bag + other stuff we might need.

Swiss Cake Rolls

So the Obama Administration wants to fix the a la carte options in the lunch room. No more fatty foods, blah blah.

I agree with this, but I'm totally having flashbacks to 8th & 9th grade, where my entire lunch was one swiss cake roll package and maybe a granola bar. Swiss cake rolls were $.30. That's 30 CENTS. Granola bars were .$70. I ATE LUNCH FOR $1.00. It must have been subsidized or something. T'was awesome & extremely unhealthy. Of course, I was so skinny it didn't matter.

Anyway, from now on, I have to be really careful about what I eat. No more guilty indulgence ice cream. No more Sprite, either.  I've been good the last few weeks, mostly, with more salads and lots of broccoli.  This is what I'll be eating for the next year or two, until I can get skinny again. The baby is still in the 6-7 lbs range.

Yes, the baby is still inside of me. She has 3 days until she hits 40 weeks. Of course, from May 2nd-May 16th, she wasn't really created yet, so we'll say she's been in there for 38 of a normal 40 week pregnancy. I am the last hold-out of our friends, who have all seemed to have their babies early through bad luck, random chance, and doctor-intervention.

Every day, I think about calling the work in early. I'm ready to stay home, sit on my ass and sew her baby blanket until she arrives. But I shouldn't skip out of work now. I should go until I have contractions at my desk and my water breaks at work in the elevator, because that means more time spent with the baby later.  Plus if I really do go to 41 weeks, that would mean only 11 weeks with the baby and one week spent at home, sewing her blanket.

But (and this is more of me whining) who wants to get dressed daily? Tying my shoes takes 30 minutes. Getting in the car is impossible.  I really shouldn't complain, though.

An AMerican civilian was captured in Afghanistan in October, while she was 5 months pregnant. She was due in January, and since it's February now, her baby has either been born---or it hasn't.
It's terrible to imagine being pregnant in the mountains of Afghanistan while captured by the Taliban.  I can't imagine giving birth in those conditions, either.  So I will suck it up.

aughghghhghghg.

After I was scheduled to leave for the day, but still at work, wrapping things up, I got an email that said that the HR team did not have my FMLA paperwork. This was the very first form that my boss and I completed, and I faxed it in on 1/3 (we carefully waited until after the first of the year and then waited one more day to let everything from 2012 wrap up)

My boss and I went over it a few times (checking vacation, PTO and unpaid times to use) and a couple of days after we sent it, the HR team notified him that they had the paperwork to begin the claim.

I just had to fill out a medical form from the health care provider explaining if a C-section was planned and what kind of recovery time would be needed, which I faxed in a few days ago to the alternate claim provider.

Quickly, I replied to the email saying that I had already sent that form and that they should have it. The the HR person calls me directly, insists that they didn't get the form that I first sent with my boss on 1/3. They need a new copy or to re-send the original. I've been keeping the original in my pending hanging file, but on the phone with HR, I couldn't find it.  (I have a *ton* of paper pass through my desk daily and I now sadly realize that I may have shredded the original or taken it home or just placed it in a different paper pile, since right now there's a million things on my desk.)  At least I have a digital copy, which of course, is not signed by my boss. Under most circumstances, I can usually just walk over to my boss and get it signed.  Except my boss is on PTO today. When he's back in on Monday, he can fax and resubmit this.

I know it's not a big deal. It's a piece of paper. I can refax this piece of paper into the office.
It's just that I thought everything was taken care. I started filling out this form months ago, when I first found out I was pregnant. I called all of the HR departments (3 of them!), wrote everything down, took wonderful notes. We were being so careful and it still got messed up.

The HR lady insists that I must have sent it to the wrong number or faxed it upside down. I know that I didn't do that. I even had the confirmation page stapled to my original copy. *sigh*

So I confess that I started crying. At work. I haven't cried at work for a couple of years. I put the phone down and just cried for 3 or 5 minutes while the HR woman tried to tell me what she needed. I know she could hear me crying, but I don't think she realized that I wasn't listening to anything she was saying because the receiver was on the desk. Anyway, I will try to hold the baby in this weekend so that I can go to work on Monday, find the proof I need to show them that my boss and I did fax this form and then call the other 2 departments to be sure they haven't messed anything up.

God knows if my claim gets rejected, I am going unpaid for my leave and I'm not going to let that happen. 




 

38 weeks pregnant

Here we are, still holding out for the bitter cold part of February, when the baby will finally come out of me.
Soon I won't feel her every last movement. I won't feel her baby hiccups. I won't always know the second she wakes up and moves around.

But I'll get to hold her and see her baby face and breastfeed her and change her cloth diapers and rock her and bounce around the house listening to silly music.

Which one is better?

At any rate, while 38 weeks pregnant, the nursemidwife told me that I could still be pregnant for another 4 weeks. Which I knew. But it's not possible for me to go to 42 weeks, is it?
They said yes, yes it is.
Which I knew.
But seriously?

Everyone else in the February birth club has gone early. My cousin was due on Valentine's Day and she had her 5lb baby girl on Martin Luther King Day.  I was jealous, because I love MLK Jr & having a baby on that day is awesome. But 5 lbs and 1 month early isn't good!
Yet I am not jealous because of all of the March of Dimes stuff I keep forcing myself to read regarding the 39th & 40th week development list.  I keep reminding myself that babies with more development suck better, which is good for both of us.

And guess what, internet! I think I put something plastic in the oven. Ugh!