turns out it's getting better. I'm still entirely on baby time, so the hour of the day means almost nothing. 3 am on the clock now doesn't mean the same thing that it did a month ago. Instead of, "it's the middle of the night; why am I awake?" it means, "The baby is hungry." breakfast lunch and dinner happen if and when I can set the baby down for a half hour. It is now legal to nap at any hour of the day. Showers and teeth brushing are no longer a morning routine. But we're making it work and I'm getting sleep and getting help and occasionally getting out of the house. Giving up on old routines without giving up on the things that help me feel normal and happy has been very important to feeling better.
But when i get to see Brett and Tris snuggling on the couch, watch him fall asleep with a full tummy, take him for a walk in the stroller, or see our families' faces light up when they see him I know that he is worth any amount of stress and frustration.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Thursday, June 09, 2011
Two weeks
I was going to talk about how amazing my husband and baby are, as they lay snuggling on the couch next to me. But then The Child burped an impressive amount of milk all over Brett and the couch.
Ah, the joys of fatherhood!
Brett's mom has been here for a few days, helping with the baby, and it's been great for me. Brett and I managed to have a date yesterday and went to see X-Men. It was wonderful. Today the power of the moms combined and with a fantastic gift certificate from my mom and babysitting from Christi, I got myself a fancy haircut. Probably the first time I've brought a picture to a stylist and left with exactly that cut. She did a great job and was very sweet.
Having a baby does a number of your self esteem. I think I'm evening out a little bit, but I found myself sobbing at the mall last week looking for a good nursing bra. Between being tired, feeling physically not like myself, and feeling like I wasn't doing anything right as a mom, I spent a lot of time weepy the first week. Having a stranger tell you how good you look, how nice your hair is, how nice your skin is, is really really lovely.
I've also had a ton of support at home. Mom is over often, cuddling her grandbaby and telling me I'm doing good. Christi ran all over town on errands for us, and helped us get up and out of the house. Most importantly, Brett has been amazing. When I'm crying because I've been feeding the baby for the last two hours and he's STILL HUNGRY, he sits with me and tells me he loves me and that we can give him a bottle and still be good parents. He keeps my spirits up with encouraging words, super help, and even a bouquet of roses. I couldn't ask for more!
Ah, the joys of fatherhood!
Brett's mom has been here for a few days, helping with the baby, and it's been great for me. Brett and I managed to have a date yesterday and went to see X-Men. It was wonderful. Today the power of the moms combined and with a fantastic gift certificate from my mom and babysitting from Christi, I got myself a fancy haircut. Probably the first time I've brought a picture to a stylist and left with exactly that cut. She did a great job and was very sweet.
Having a baby does a number of your self esteem. I think I'm evening out a little bit, but I found myself sobbing at the mall last week looking for a good nursing bra. Between being tired, feeling physically not like myself, and feeling like I wasn't doing anything right as a mom, I spent a lot of time weepy the first week. Having a stranger tell you how good you look, how nice your hair is, how nice your skin is, is really really lovely.
I've also had a ton of support at home. Mom is over often, cuddling her grandbaby and telling me I'm doing good. Christi ran all over town on errands for us, and helped us get up and out of the house. Most importantly, Brett has been amazing. When I'm crying because I've been feeding the baby for the last two hours and he's STILL HUNGRY, he sits with me and tells me he loves me and that we can give him a bottle and still be good parents. He keeps my spirits up with encouraging words, super help, and even a bouquet of roses. I couldn't ask for more!
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
Baby-riffic
So what's new with me? Oh, you know, not much. Except everything. I'm a Mom now to a beautiful baby boy who is, at this 4:07 AM moment, sleeping soundly in his chair next to the couch. Brett is taking a much needed and deserved sleep break, after taking charge of feedings and diapers for eight hours while I got something like a normal night of sleep.
I've been told to sleep when the baby does, which is great advice, and something I hope to do more of. The Child has been asking to eat about every hour or so and wiping himself out after a half hour of nursing, giving me all of 30 minutes to try to fall asleep. And it's hard to really let yourself relax when you're primed and wakeful at the first hint of a fuss or wimper. Knowing Brett is there to care for him has helped me keep my sanity and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.
My plan has been to keep a written journal for my boy to read when he's older about my pregnancy and his first months. I don't plan to turn this blog into an all-baby all the time channel, any more than it was all about Brett's life after we got married. Of course, these two fellas are hugely important in my life and for a while I'm going to be pretty focused on them. But knowing I'm going back to work (shortly!) and will be gone for ten hours at a time doing my own thing means I'm just that much more eager to gobble up every moment of this on-demand motherhood experience.
Thursday was a pretty normal day for me. I got up at 7:30, dressed for work, spent the day working on projects, getting things set for my summer seasonal, and took time to get my seasonal situated so that he would be comfortable taking over for me when I left for a month. I felt agitated and remarked on Facebook (something I rarely do) how hard it was to relax. I was impatient for the baby to come, "tuned up" awaiting the first contraction, or, more embarrassingly, my water breaking. I was on edge, and had been for a while, but I joked on the walk up to our vehicles that now that Ed was up to speed, maybe tomorrow I would have the baby. Maybe he was courteously just waiting for that.
I had made last minute plans to have dinner with my Dad before he moves out of town and we talked about how great it would be if the baby were to come early so that Dad could have a chance to meet him. I ate a delicious sausage, roasted pepper and pesto pizza, said goodbye to Dad and we headed back home to watch the Bulls game. Unfortunately, it was a miserable defeat at the end of the fourth quarter by the Heat. I headed to bed at 11:00, ready to head to work the next day.
Instead, I woke up around 11:30 with pretty painful stomach cramps. I figured the delicious meal was too much for my tummy, and spent some time hunched over in the bathroom. The pain in my gut was intense and constant, accompanied by continual sharp pain in my pelvis. The doctors had identified this feeling, which had occasionally shot like fire through one hips or the other as ligament stretching, but this was pretty solid agony. After about a half hour of this, I grabbed the stop watch from the hospital overnight back and tried to time the stronger waves of cramping pain. Because everything seemed to blend into one big mass of unhappiness (which I was still attributing to diet) it was hard to tell when one started and stopped, but I was timing things at well over a minute. I finally woke Brett up, crying, telling him something was wrong. He called the hospital who asked me a bunch of questions I gaspingly tried to answer. They suggested I come in to get checked. I knelt over the edge of the couch while Brett took out Honus and grabbed our bags, my purse, my toothbrush, everything he could remember we would want.
I remember he asked me something outside by the car, to which I snappily replied, "Let's just GO!" or something to that effect. Apparently I said it louder than necessary, as our neighbors heard it and figured out I was probably in labor. Poor Brett; he took such good care of me!
We made out way on deserted 1:00 AM streets towards the hospital, listening to Garth Brooks and Brett coaching me through deep breathing. The difference was that in practice, there had been painless moments between contractions, spaces to rest and catch your breath, hope to cling to when the pain was unbearable. For me, the whole thing was unbearable. I remember screeching to a stop at a light I could tell Brett was thinking about running, being pleased with Brett's musical choice, and commenting that one of three things could happen at the hospital: they would tell me I was fine and to go home, they would tell me I was almost complete and we would have a baby in minutes, or they would say I was in labor, but barely started, and I would beg them for drugs. Obviously, I had my preference.
When we got there and checked in, I was so dazed and confused by the pain that I could barely undress. We worked with two nurses in triage who got me monitored, stuck with the IV and did an internal exam (agony!) and pronounced me nearly 4 cm. I said "Thank GOD!" that we were in labor, and immediately determined that I wanted the epidural. Brett held my hand, kept me connected to something positive and calm. He got me a barf bucket when that previously wonderful pizza made a second, third, and fourth appearance and then still let me breathe RIGHT INTO HIS FACE to get through the next wave of pain. Nurses kept asking me if the contraction was over, trying to work between them, and all I could say was that I didn't know. I still couldn't tell the contraction pain from the constant pain.
We walked down to the labor and delivery room where I was sat in bed (ouch). The nurse was very pleasant, but not very helpful. Brett asked if I wanted to be talked out of the drugs, but I didn't. He told me to breathe, demonstrating and coaching me. At one point, I switched my out breath to a low moan, and the nurse admonished me to breathe. I charmingly replied, in Brett's direction,"THAT'S. NOT. HELPING!" but tried to do as I was told.
The lovely anesthesiologist came and explained what he would do, told me about the epidural, while I gasped out affirmations that yes I understood, yes I wanted, yes yes yes to an end to the pain I had been in since I had tried to go to bed. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, arched my back and waited for him to work between contractions. Brett sat facing me, and looking into his eyes kept me from drowning in the pain. He was amazing. At this point, sitting up, I opened my jaw and moaned my way through the next handful of contractions. Maybe they were getting stronger, but now I could pick them out from the background pain, when they came, and I leaned over and moaned, I could feel things opening, working, progressing. Maybe if that had happened sooner I would have been able to forgo the drugs, but I'm glad I didn't.
The little stick in the spine was no problem, hardly felt through everything else and when they adjusted the medication to suit me, the background pain faded and the contractions were easier. The shuddering slowed, and I got my sense of humor back. They checked me again (pressure, but no pain), said I was 8cm (nearly there) and we waited for the doctor to come look at me. Mom came at this point and it was great to have her support there too. I floated through the next while, sleeping on and off, and when the doctor came at 4:00 AM, he said I was ready to go, but that my water was still intact. He suggested breaking it to encourage the urge to push, but I elected to wait another half hour, since things had moved so fast so far, I thought it might happen on its own. We called him back at 4:30 and he broke my water at 4:45. At 5:00 I started pushing.
Brett monitored my contractions, which I could hardly feel except as a little more pressure than usual, and told me when to push. He counted through my breaths, and I crushed his hand as I tried to bear down and move things along. The sun rose. The nurse was not only unhelpful, she seemed to delay things. I felt my pushes were stronger when I breathed out during them, but she said I had to hold my breath. My back was on fire and I longed for a change of position, some Tylenol, anything to relieve that burning sensation every time I pushed. I looked at Brett and knew I couldn't deliver this way. I was sure the baby was stuck and I was so tired. He told me I could, that I WAS doing it, that I didn't have a choice. So I clung to him for dear life, screamed, and pushed some more.
I pushed through the end of the shift (7:30) and when the next nurse came on, she said I could breathe out. By 7:45, she had called the doctor and I was getting prepped for delivery. Two or three pushes after the doctor arrived and there was a new person in the room! He cried once or twice.
They put him on my belly right away and then he was so quiet, staring up at me with big blue eyes. Brett cut the cord. The nurse cleaned him dry, measured and weighed him while the doctor took care of me. When we were both ok and fixed up, the nurse brought him over for his first meal. He latched really well right away and nursed about 45 minutes in one shot. Amazing!
All things considered, it was a quick delivery, especially for a first. I went in almost 100% effaced and got to 4cm in about two hours on my own. Another 6cms in another four hours. Three hours of pushing. About 20 minutes of sleep in those nine hours, which is more than Brett got.
He's healthy, I'm healthy and now I know what to expect for the next time. (you never know!)
I've been told to sleep when the baby does, which is great advice, and something I hope to do more of. The Child has been asking to eat about every hour or so and wiping himself out after a half hour of nursing, giving me all of 30 minutes to try to fall asleep. And it's hard to really let yourself relax when you're primed and wakeful at the first hint of a fuss or wimper. Knowing Brett is there to care for him has helped me keep my sanity and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.
My plan has been to keep a written journal for my boy to read when he's older about my pregnancy and his first months. I don't plan to turn this blog into an all-baby all the time channel, any more than it was all about Brett's life after we got married. Of course, these two fellas are hugely important in my life and for a while I'm going to be pretty focused on them. But knowing I'm going back to work (shortly!) and will be gone for ten hours at a time doing my own thing means I'm just that much more eager to gobble up every moment of this on-demand motherhood experience.
Thursday was a pretty normal day for me. I got up at 7:30, dressed for work, spent the day working on projects, getting things set for my summer seasonal, and took time to get my seasonal situated so that he would be comfortable taking over for me when I left for a month. I felt agitated and remarked on Facebook (something I rarely do) how hard it was to relax. I was impatient for the baby to come, "tuned up" awaiting the first contraction, or, more embarrassingly, my water breaking. I was on edge, and had been for a while, but I joked on the walk up to our vehicles that now that Ed was up to speed, maybe tomorrow I would have the baby. Maybe he was courteously just waiting for that.
I had made last minute plans to have dinner with my Dad before he moves out of town and we talked about how great it would be if the baby were to come early so that Dad could have a chance to meet him. I ate a delicious sausage, roasted pepper and pesto pizza, said goodbye to Dad and we headed back home to watch the Bulls game. Unfortunately, it was a miserable defeat at the end of the fourth quarter by the Heat. I headed to bed at 11:00, ready to head to work the next day.
Instead, I woke up around 11:30 with pretty painful stomach cramps. I figured the delicious meal was too much for my tummy, and spent some time hunched over in the bathroom. The pain in my gut was intense and constant, accompanied by continual sharp pain in my pelvis. The doctors had identified this feeling, which had occasionally shot like fire through one hips or the other as ligament stretching, but this was pretty solid agony. After about a half hour of this, I grabbed the stop watch from the hospital overnight back and tried to time the stronger waves of cramping pain. Because everything seemed to blend into one big mass of unhappiness (which I was still attributing to diet) it was hard to tell when one started and stopped, but I was timing things at well over a minute. I finally woke Brett up, crying, telling him something was wrong. He called the hospital who asked me a bunch of questions I gaspingly tried to answer. They suggested I come in to get checked. I knelt over the edge of the couch while Brett took out Honus and grabbed our bags, my purse, my toothbrush, everything he could remember we would want.
I remember he asked me something outside by the car, to which I snappily replied, "Let's just GO!" or something to that effect. Apparently I said it louder than necessary, as our neighbors heard it and figured out I was probably in labor. Poor Brett; he took such good care of me!
We made out way on deserted 1:00 AM streets towards the hospital, listening to Garth Brooks and Brett coaching me through deep breathing. The difference was that in practice, there had been painless moments between contractions, spaces to rest and catch your breath, hope to cling to when the pain was unbearable. For me, the whole thing was unbearable. I remember screeching to a stop at a light I could tell Brett was thinking about running, being pleased with Brett's musical choice, and commenting that one of three things could happen at the hospital: they would tell me I was fine and to go home, they would tell me I was almost complete and we would have a baby in minutes, or they would say I was in labor, but barely started, and I would beg them for drugs. Obviously, I had my preference.
When we got there and checked in, I was so dazed and confused by the pain that I could barely undress. We worked with two nurses in triage who got me monitored, stuck with the IV and did an internal exam (agony!) and pronounced me nearly 4 cm. I said "Thank GOD!" that we were in labor, and immediately determined that I wanted the epidural. Brett held my hand, kept me connected to something positive and calm. He got me a barf bucket when that previously wonderful pizza made a second, third, and fourth appearance and then still let me breathe RIGHT INTO HIS FACE to get through the next wave of pain. Nurses kept asking me if the contraction was over, trying to work between them, and all I could say was that I didn't know. I still couldn't tell the contraction pain from the constant pain.
We walked down to the labor and delivery room where I was sat in bed (ouch). The nurse was very pleasant, but not very helpful. Brett asked if I wanted to be talked out of the drugs, but I didn't. He told me to breathe, demonstrating and coaching me. At one point, I switched my out breath to a low moan, and the nurse admonished me to breathe. I charmingly replied, in Brett's direction,"THAT'S. NOT. HELPING!" but tried to do as I was told.
The lovely anesthesiologist came and explained what he would do, told me about the epidural, while I gasped out affirmations that yes I understood, yes I wanted, yes yes yes to an end to the pain I had been in since I had tried to go to bed. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, arched my back and waited for him to work between contractions. Brett sat facing me, and looking into his eyes kept me from drowning in the pain. He was amazing. At this point, sitting up, I opened my jaw and moaned my way through the next handful of contractions. Maybe they were getting stronger, but now I could pick them out from the background pain, when they came, and I leaned over and moaned, I could feel things opening, working, progressing. Maybe if that had happened sooner I would have been able to forgo the drugs, but I'm glad I didn't.
The little stick in the spine was no problem, hardly felt through everything else and when they adjusted the medication to suit me, the background pain faded and the contractions were easier. The shuddering slowed, and I got my sense of humor back. They checked me again (pressure, but no pain), said I was 8cm (nearly there) and we waited for the doctor to come look at me. Mom came at this point and it was great to have her support there too. I floated through the next while, sleeping on and off, and when the doctor came at 4:00 AM, he said I was ready to go, but that my water was still intact. He suggested breaking it to encourage the urge to push, but I elected to wait another half hour, since things had moved so fast so far, I thought it might happen on its own. We called him back at 4:30 and he broke my water at 4:45. At 5:00 I started pushing.
Brett monitored my contractions, which I could hardly feel except as a little more pressure than usual, and told me when to push. He counted through my breaths, and I crushed his hand as I tried to bear down and move things along. The sun rose. The nurse was not only unhelpful, she seemed to delay things. I felt my pushes were stronger when I breathed out during them, but she said I had to hold my breath. My back was on fire and I longed for a change of position, some Tylenol, anything to relieve that burning sensation every time I pushed. I looked at Brett and knew I couldn't deliver this way. I was sure the baby was stuck and I was so tired. He told me I could, that I WAS doing it, that I didn't have a choice. So I clung to him for dear life, screamed, and pushed some more.
I pushed through the end of the shift (7:30) and when the next nurse came on, she said I could breathe out. By 7:45, she had called the doctor and I was getting prepped for delivery. Two or three pushes after the doctor arrived and there was a new person in the room! He cried once or twice.
They put him on my belly right away and then he was so quiet, staring up at me with big blue eyes. Brett cut the cord. The nurse cleaned him dry, measured and weighed him while the doctor took care of me. When we were both ok and fixed up, the nurse brought him over for his first meal. He latched really well right away and nursed about 45 minutes in one shot. Amazing!
All things considered, it was a quick delivery, especially for a first. I went in almost 100% effaced and got to 4cm in about two hours on my own. Another 6cms in another four hours. Three hours of pushing. About 20 minutes of sleep in those nine hours, which is more than Brett got.
He's healthy, I'm healthy and now I know what to expect for the next time. (you never know!)
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