A couple weeks ago I took the afternoon off to take Liam to the pumpkin patch... and he fell in love with the bunnies.
Video Updates
Here are a few videos to show you just how big my guy has gotten (here a hint: in seven weeks, he'll be a TODDLER).
Liam in the bath at 9 1/2 months
Liam at 10 months
Bathtime as a Big Boy
Liam is 8-months old today. Woop! and what?! at the same exact time. To celebrate, I went to BB&B to get a bath mat (as well as sheets and pillows for our couch, but those impulse buys are unrelated) for Liam's first bath in the big boy tub. I'm pretty sure he didn't notice, except for the awesome blue bubbles under his butt.
Here's hoping he likes the pool as much as he likes bathtime.
Here's hoping he likes the pool as much as he likes bathtime.
Totally Inappropriate
Preface: I started this draft on February 2nd. Today is May 14th. That's just depressing. Also, as a caveat to the .2 males that read my blog - I'm about to talk about boobs (and not in a fun way) and periods.
If you know me well, then you know this about me: Often times I am thinking about something that's too inappropriate to share out loud. Sometimes I want so desperately to share my random musings on Facebook or Twitter (Twitter gets them more often - not many of my 'people' follow me Twits), but I just can't bring myself to subject the general public. But I can sure share them on my blog! Don't judge me. Here are a few of the totally inappropriate things that run circles inside my brain:
A runny nose is a lot like breastfeeding boobies. One side always producing more than the other.
You know you're a breastfeeding mom when in lieu of tampons, you carry breast pads in your purse.
You know you're a breastfeeding mom when your boobs are never, EVER the same size. And we're talking, one is totally encroaching on the others personal space spacee different. Or as Husband said, Big and Bigger.
Much like last busy season, I am sitting here with my jeans unbuttoned (on a Saturday). Except this time I'm not pregnant.
Since we're on the topic, let's talk breastfeeding:
I'm still nursing (BOOM!). I love it. I never thought I would love it as much as I do. When Liam weans, I'm convinced it'll be harder for me than it will be for him (yes, you read that right - I don't have any plans to force wean... but we'll revisit that at a later date). During busy season, I would be at work for 12 to 14 hours, during which I would pump three times. I would come home in time to nurse Liam before bed and then work from home. Two words: pumping sucks. Currently, I pump twice at work.
At the onset of busy season, my supply was still far above what Liam needed. As the weeks passed, it slowly began to regulate and decrease. It never dipped below Liam's consumption, but it hovered right at consumption.
I got my first "real" period in April. I was really hoping for more than seven months without, thanks to the nursing. Your period is that friend that you tolerate because you've known them since elementary school, but you have nothing but the oxygen you breath in common. It had been since November 2009, and I was none too happy to see my old pal again. I noticed a couples days before her arrival that my milk supply majorly wained. Hello panic mode. And thank you, Google. I took to the interweb and researched my heart out. Somewhat common. But the return of my period really put a cramp (ha!) on my milk supply (not to mention my mood, my back, and my uterus).
But I swear, post-real period my supply never returned to it's former glory. I'm still able to match consumption, but just barely. This is Liam's current schedule:
Nurse in the a.m. before work/daycare (I usually pump a few ounces before nursing)
Two 8-ounce bottles at daycare (I pump twice at work)
Maybe nurse right after work - it depends on when he had his last bottle at daycare
Nurse before bed
Liam also has a yogurt for breakfast, 6.5 ounces of veg for lunch, and 4 ounces of meat/veg and 4 ounces of fruit for dinner.
Lately, I feel like my milk supply has continued to decrease. The decrease is very gradual, but it's there. I can't help but feel like my body is failing me. I'm having a hard time keeping my calorie consumption high enough (forcing yourself to eat isn't as fun as you'd think), and I've also started running. I'm sure neither of those help the situation. I pep-talk my body by saying, "I just need four more months. Just four!" Thankfully, we have 1200+ ounces in a deep freeze; but I never wanted to be in a situation to need it.
Any suggestions for jump-starting my supply?
I do have to say - running now versus four months ago is MUCH less painful. The girls don't fill-up nearly as fast, so I don't feel the need to duct tape those puppies down.
Oh, and Liam bit me for the first time last week. And it HURT. I might have screamed a little, which of course surprised/terrified Liam. Maybe that will deter him from doing it again?
If you know me well, then you know this about me: Often times I am thinking about something that's too inappropriate to share out loud. Sometimes I want so desperately to share my random musings on Facebook or Twitter (Twitter gets them more often - not many of my 'people' follow me Twits), but I just can't bring myself to subject the general public. But I can sure share them on my blog! Don't judge me. Here are a few of the totally inappropriate things that run circles inside my brain:
A runny nose is a lot like breastfeeding boobies. One side always producing more than the other.
You know you're a breastfeeding mom when in lieu of tampons, you carry breast pads in your purse.
You know you're a breastfeeding mom when your boobs are never, EVER the same size. And we're talking, one is totally encroaching on the others personal space spacee different. Or as Husband said, Big and Bigger.
Much like last busy season, I am sitting here with my jeans unbuttoned (on a Saturday). Except this time I'm not pregnant.
Since we're on the topic, let's talk breastfeeding:
I'm still nursing (BOOM!). I love it. I never thought I would love it as much as I do. When Liam weans, I'm convinced it'll be harder for me than it will be for him (yes, you read that right - I don't have any plans to force wean... but we'll revisit that at a later date). During busy season, I would be at work for 12 to 14 hours, during which I would pump three times. I would come home in time to nurse Liam before bed and then work from home. Two words: pumping sucks. Currently, I pump twice at work.
At the onset of busy season, my supply was still far above what Liam needed. As the weeks passed, it slowly began to regulate and decrease. It never dipped below Liam's consumption, but it hovered right at consumption.
I got my first "real" period in April. I was really hoping for more than seven months without, thanks to the nursing. Your period is that friend that you tolerate because you've known them since elementary school, but you have nothing but the oxygen you breath in common. It had been since November 2009, and I was none too happy to see my old pal again. I noticed a couples days before her arrival that my milk supply majorly wained. Hello panic mode. And thank you, Google. I took to the interweb and researched my heart out. Somewhat common. But the return of my period really put a cramp (ha!) on my milk supply (not to mention my mood, my back, and my uterus).
But I swear, post-real period my supply never returned to it's former glory. I'm still able to match consumption, but just barely. This is Liam's current schedule:
Nurse in the a.m. before work/daycare (I usually pump a few ounces before nursing)
Two 8-ounce bottles at daycare (I pump twice at work)
Maybe nurse right after work - it depends on when he had his last bottle at daycare
Nurse before bed
Liam also has a yogurt for breakfast, 6.5 ounces of veg for lunch, and 4 ounces of meat/veg and 4 ounces of fruit for dinner.
Lately, I feel like my milk supply has continued to decrease. The decrease is very gradual, but it's there. I can't help but feel like my body is failing me. I'm having a hard time keeping my calorie consumption high enough (forcing yourself to eat isn't as fun as you'd think), and I've also started running. I'm sure neither of those help the situation. I pep-talk my body by saying, "I just need four more months. Just four!" Thankfully, we have 1200+ ounces in a deep freeze; but I never wanted to be in a situation to need it.
Any suggestions for jump-starting my supply?
I do have to say - running now versus four months ago is MUCH less painful. The girls don't fill-up nearly as fast, so I don't feel the need to duct tape those puppies down.
Oh, and Liam bit me for the first time last week. And it HURT. I might have screamed a little, which of course surprised/terrified Liam. Maybe that will deter him from doing it again?
Remember me?
I am officially the worst.blogger.ever. Don't get too excited - I'm posting this and then disappearing into the wild world of taxation until April 19th (don't EVEN get me started on the three extra days of busy season). I desperately miss rambling to no one about nothing in particular, but my priorities are currently aligned like so: (1) make sure Liam is fed, (2) work, (3) Husband (marriage status: on hold. DEPRESSING), (4) work, (5) laundry, clean, make Liam's food, (6) work, (7) sleep... and after about five more works, (13) blog. So sad.
As a quick update, here's the latest with Liam:
(1) We started pureed foods!!! He currently loves: apples, pears, bananas, blueberries, squash, carrots, and sweet potatoes. Weird that he only likes orange veggies, right?
(2) Pureed foods = man poops for Liam. I honestly miss the mustard days (breastfeeding mommies, you know just what I'm talking about!). The first man poop signified leaving his baby stage behind. I was NOT ready.
(3) Liam is rolling over! He rolled-over for the first time about six weeks ago. He'd roll over and then screech and scream because he couldn't go anywhere. Now he has figured about how to inchworm his way forward, but he still screeches and screams along the way.
(4) Liam is sitting up unassisted! For a little while, at least. Eventually, he topples sideways.
(5) It's official: nothing is safe from his grasp anymore. Going out to dinner has become increasingly difficult and utterly entertaining!
(6) Liam is a FLIRT, and he is still completely comfortable with strangers. Good thing he doesn't like candy yet.
(7) He started sleeping on his side about a month ago. And he loves to snuggle up to Mommy or Daddy, put his hand on one of our faces, and fall asleep. I DIE.
(8) Liam slept in our bed with us for the first time this weekend. He woke-up at 5:45 am on Sunday, ate, and then the three of us snuggled back into our bed. Husband and I didn't get much sleep (SOMEONE is a wiggle worm), but Liam slept like a champ. When he woke-up he was clearly excited to be in bed with us. He was rolling back and worth like, "Oh, hey, Mom." "Oh, hi, Dad!" "MOMMY!" "DADDY!"
(9) We are teething, but no teeth yet. He's a drool monster. Everything goes straight to his mouth (I am officially that mom with sani-wipes that wipes-down everything in sight). We can see the shape of his lower teeth through his gums, so I think we're close.
(10) So far we've endured RSV and strep. Next stop: a totally HEALTHY baby. I am speaking it into existence (Hey, God, are you listening?!?).
(11) Every single day I fall more in love with that kid.
See you in 42 days, friends!
As a quick update, here's the latest with Liam:
(1) We started pureed foods!!! He currently loves: apples, pears, bananas, blueberries, squash, carrots, and sweet potatoes. Weird that he only likes orange veggies, right?
(2) Pureed foods = man poops for Liam. I honestly miss the mustard days (breastfeeding mommies, you know just what I'm talking about!). The first man poop signified leaving his baby stage behind. I was NOT ready.
(3) Liam is rolling over! He rolled-over for the first time about six weeks ago. He'd roll over and then screech and scream because he couldn't go anywhere. Now he has figured about how to inchworm his way forward, but he still screeches and screams along the way.
(4) Liam is sitting up unassisted! For a little while, at least. Eventually, he topples sideways.
(5) It's official: nothing is safe from his grasp anymore. Going out to dinner has become increasingly difficult and utterly entertaining!
(6) Liam is a FLIRT, and he is still completely comfortable with strangers. Good thing he doesn't like candy yet.
(7) He started sleeping on his side about a month ago. And he loves to snuggle up to Mommy or Daddy, put his hand on one of our faces, and fall asleep. I DIE.
(8) Liam slept in our bed with us for the first time this weekend. He woke-up at 5:45 am on Sunday, ate, and then the three of us snuggled back into our bed. Husband and I didn't get much sleep (SOMEONE is a wiggle worm), but Liam slept like a champ. When he woke-up he was clearly excited to be in bed with us. He was rolling back and worth like, "Oh, hey, Mom." "Oh, hi, Dad!" "MOMMY!" "DADDY!"
(9) We are teething, but no teeth yet. He's a drool monster. Everything goes straight to his mouth (I am officially that mom with sani-wipes that wipes-down everything in sight). We can see the shape of his lower teeth through his gums, so I think we're close.
(10) So far we've endured RSV and strep. Next stop: a totally HEALTHY baby. I am speaking it into existence (Hey, God, are you listening?!?).
(11) Every single day I fall more in love with that kid.
See you in 42 days, friends!
Respiratory Something Virus
That's what husband and I called it for a few days before we finally looked-up the pronuciation guide online. Resiratory SIN-SI-SHUL (Syncytial) Virus put my sweet boy threw the ringer. After a week and a half in daycare, Liam got sick. I was prepared for runny noses, but I was NOT prepared for this.
It started with a small cough on Tuesday morning. When he got home from daycare, the cough had turned wet (that's the only way I can think to describe it). When I was burping him that night, and I heard/felt a vibration in his chest. Knowing better than to mess with the lungs (especially when those longs are 13 weeks old), we decided to take L to the pediatrician the next morning (by we, I mean Husband was on daddy duty that day). That night he coughed and snotted, coughed and snotted.
Following directions, Husband turned-off his phone while he was with the pediatrician (most of us would have turned our phone to vibrate, I'm just saying). After an hour and a half at the Peds, and after getting a million panicked phone calls and texts from me, Husband finally calls me with the news. RSV. To which I said, "Whaaa?"
The Peds sent us home with a nebulizer and instructions of what to watch-out for. The next couple days of my life consisted of watching Liam breathe, listening to him breathe, and trying to watch him breathe through our video monitor (which is really hard, by the way). More often than not, he was wheezing when he breathed. If we weren't using the nebulizer (which was every four hours when he was awake), we were sucking snot out of his nose. Liam was remarkably cooperative with the nebulizer. Each treatment took about 11 minutes. By minute 9, his attention span would wane and one of us would dangle a toy in front of him or dance around like an idiot to keep him from melting down. A couple of times, he had a meltdown anyway. It broke my heart to see him so upset, but I figured he was taking-in extra medicine with all the wailing. Worse than the nebulizer was the snot by day three. He was SO snotty. Half the time he couldn't breathe out of his nose unless we used the bulb (my super technical term for it). After a few days, his nose was so raw that he'd scream when we used it. It was awful. If we didn't use it, he couldn't breathe. If we did use it, he screamed.
After two nebulizer treatments on Saturday, he was still wheezing (the treatments usually made the wheezing go away). It also looked like he was working breathe. We called the on-call nurse, who had the on-call doctor call us. After five minutes of conversation, the doctor said, "I hate to do this to you, but I think you should go to the emergency room." My heart has never hurt so badly in my life. We got ourselves pulled-together, and headed to St. Mary's. I guess they don't mess-around with babies because we didn't have to wait (as in, we never even had a chance to sit down). After three hours in Peds (they really did call it Peds. I felt like I was inside Grey's Anatomy. Minus all the sex and drama), lots of smiling and talking to the nurses and doctors, lots of crying because he was super tired by couldn't call asleep, and lots of refusing to eat because he was too tired, Liam was discharged. We were now doing the nebulizer every two to four hours AROUND THE CLOCK.
I don't know if you've ever heard a nebulizer, but it's loud. The Peds doc said we could do the night treatments while he was sleeping (just hold it over him face). Right. We'd turn-on the machine and Liam would immediately startle awake. Who needs sleep anyway.
RSV is very contagious, so we obviously had to keep him out of daycare. I worked from home some, Husband stayed home some, and Liam's Grammy (my mom) watched him some. Between the three of us, we were able to keep him out of daycare through to Christmas. And Husband was off the entire week after Christmas.
By the Thursday before Christmas we were finally noticing some positive changes. By Sunday we were cutting back the nebulizer treatments. By the next Thursday his appetite returned (and we actually think he was in a growth spurt - 7 to 8 ounce bottles every time he ate), we didn't need to use the bulb, we weren't using the nebulizer, and we got our amiable kid back.
Throughout this whole ordeal, Liam remained remarkably happy. It was amazing. Through all the snot, he'd still smile. After a coughing fit he would immediately start talking. He'd COUGH, COUGH, COUUUUGH, and go "UUUURGH!!!" in the cutest little 14-week old voice. I'm so proud of how he handled it. And I'm proud of how Husband and I handled it. We leaned on each other, and we survived.
Let me leave you with this: Being a parent is NO JOKE. You start worrying the second you find-out you're pregnant, and it only gets worse after they're born. But there is nothing like it.
It started with a small cough on Tuesday morning. When he got home from daycare, the cough had turned wet (that's the only way I can think to describe it). When I was burping him that night, and I heard/felt a vibration in his chest. Knowing better than to mess with the lungs (especially when those longs are 13 weeks old), we decided to take L to the pediatrician the next morning (by we, I mean Husband was on daddy duty that day). That night he coughed and snotted, coughed and snotted.
Following directions, Husband turned-off his phone while he was with the pediatrician (most of us would have turned our phone to vibrate, I'm just saying). After an hour and a half at the Peds, and after getting a million panicked phone calls and texts from me, Husband finally calls me with the news. RSV. To which I said, "Whaaa?"
The Peds sent us home with a nebulizer and instructions of what to watch-out for. The next couple days of my life consisted of watching Liam breathe, listening to him breathe, and trying to watch him breathe through our video monitor (which is really hard, by the way). More often than not, he was wheezing when he breathed. If we weren't using the nebulizer (which was every four hours when he was awake), we were sucking snot out of his nose. Liam was remarkably cooperative with the nebulizer. Each treatment took about 11 minutes. By minute 9, his attention span would wane and one of us would dangle a toy in front of him or dance around like an idiot to keep him from melting down. A couple of times, he had a meltdown anyway. It broke my heart to see him so upset, but I figured he was taking-in extra medicine with all the wailing. Worse than the nebulizer was the snot by day three. He was SO snotty. Half the time he couldn't breathe out of his nose unless we used the bulb (my super technical term for it). After a few days, his nose was so raw that he'd scream when we used it. It was awful. If we didn't use it, he couldn't breathe. If we did use it, he screamed.
 |
| Grammy trying to distract him. |
 |
| FINALLY fell alseep |
RSV is very contagious, so we obviously had to keep him out of daycare. I worked from home some, Husband stayed home some, and Liam's Grammy (my mom) watched him some. Between the three of us, we were able to keep him out of daycare through to Christmas. And Husband was off the entire week after Christmas.
By the Thursday before Christmas we were finally noticing some positive changes. By Sunday we were cutting back the nebulizer treatments. By the next Thursday his appetite returned (and we actually think he was in a growth spurt - 7 to 8 ounce bottles every time he ate), we didn't need to use the bulb, we weren't using the nebulizer, and we got our amiable kid back.
Throughout this whole ordeal, Liam remained remarkably happy. It was amazing. Through all the snot, he'd still smile. After a coughing fit he would immediately start talking. He'd COUGH, COUGH, COUUUUGH, and go "UUUURGH!!!" in the cutest little 14-week old voice. I'm so proud of how he handled it. And I'm proud of how Husband and I handled it. We leaned on each other, and we survived.
Let me leave you with this: Being a parent is NO JOKE. You start worrying the second you find-out you're pregnant, and it only gets worse after they're born. But there is nothing like it.
 |
| So glad to have this kid back to normal! |
Wait, It's 2011?!?!
Wasn't the world supposed to end 11 years ago? Boy am I glad it didn't.
There are a lot of New Years resolution posts circulating the blog world. In the past, I've never been much of a resolution person. When I was in high school I'd make a resolution (or ten) for something impossibly attainable for no reason other than to make a resolution because everyone else was. It's been years since I've made one.
There's something about being a mom that changes you. Not in a "I gave birth to a baby, and my new name is Mom" kind of a way. We're talking alters you to the core kind of a change. I want to BE better. I want to LIVE better. I have a big reason to do everything better. Well, two. Which added together equal one family.
In the spirit of being better, I've (we've) decided to make a few resolutions this year. And I use "resolutions" loosely. These are more like goals. I won't hate myself if I haven't achieved them in 365. These are aspirations of being BETTER. For him, him, and Him. Oh, and for me.
Family goal:
No fast food for a year. We eat fast food about once a month, so this shouldn't be too hard. The point of this for us is to make ourselves choose healthy, more real options, even when we're in a hurry. I want fast food to be a MAJOR treat for Liam, not something we grab every Saturday when we're out running errands.
Personal goals:
Make taking care of myself a priority. I haven't been exercising. I have been eating all that well. I haven't been taking time to just see and be, read a book, just tune out. I haven't gone shopping for clothes that fit me and make me feel good. As much as I want to spend every waking second in my son's presence, I HAVE to do things for myself. For both of our sakes. Also, I miss running. But I miss RUNNING. Not this Couch to 5K crap I have to do right now. But to get back to the running I love, I have to get through the first weeks of getting back into shape. I also need to get a REALLY good sports bra. I'm thinking the Ta Ta Tamer.
Take more pictures of our life and make sure that I'm in them. I'm one of those people who loves to take pictures when we're home, but I forget to take pictures when we're with family or out doing something fun. Since I'm always taking pictures, I'm rarely in them. I don't want to look-back in 18 years and realize that I was in five pictures a year.
Find a church home. We want to find our "fit." Somewhere look forward to going every weekend. Part of this goal is to also get in the church habit. I want my son to grow-up going to church, participating in Sunday school, and kids choir. Those are some of my fondest memories from my childhood.
Make new friends. Making new friends is hard for me. I'm a naturally shy person. But we don't know many people with kids, and we want play dates and sleep overs (not for us, Silly, for Liam).
Blog more. I miss my blog. Just saying that makes me feel sad. It has been a source of such joy for me since it's inception (good movie, by the way). But it's hard to make time for it when you have a household to run, a family to feed, a job, and two great guys to spend time with. This goal will be hardest over the next three and a half months (during busy season), but hopefully I can do it. Even if I just do a picture dump. Or bullet points about our week.
Husband's goal:
Take more pictures. For Husband, life gets in the way of taking pictures every day. It's his passion, so this year he decided to make it a priority.
Do you think the Big Guy would be willing to add a few extra hours to every day? I'll let you know what he says.
There are a lot of New Years resolution posts circulating the blog world. In the past, I've never been much of a resolution person. When I was in high school I'd make a resolution (or ten) for something impossibly attainable for no reason other than to make a resolution because everyone else was. It's been years since I've made one.
There's something about being a mom that changes you. Not in a "I gave birth to a baby, and my new name is Mom" kind of a way. We're talking alters you to the core kind of a change. I want to BE better. I want to LIVE better. I have a big reason to do everything better. Well, two. Which added together equal one family.
In the spirit of being better, I've (we've) decided to make a few resolutions this year. And I use "resolutions" loosely. These are more like goals. I won't hate myself if I haven't achieved them in 365. These are aspirations of being BETTER. For him, him, and Him. Oh, and for me.
Family goal:
No fast food for a year. We eat fast food about once a month, so this shouldn't be too hard. The point of this for us is to make ourselves choose healthy, more real options, even when we're in a hurry. I want fast food to be a MAJOR treat for Liam, not something we grab every Saturday when we're out running errands.
Personal goals:
Make taking care of myself a priority. I haven't been exercising. I have been eating all that well. I haven't been taking time to just see and be, read a book, just tune out. I haven't gone shopping for clothes that fit me and make me feel good. As much as I want to spend every waking second in my son's presence, I HAVE to do things for myself. For both of our sakes. Also, I miss running. But I miss RUNNING. Not this Couch to 5K crap I have to do right now. But to get back to the running I love, I have to get through the first weeks of getting back into shape. I also need to get a REALLY good sports bra. I'm thinking the Ta Ta Tamer.
Take more pictures of our life and make sure that I'm in them. I'm one of those people who loves to take pictures when we're home, but I forget to take pictures when we're with family or out doing something fun. Since I'm always taking pictures, I'm rarely in them. I don't want to look-back in 18 years and realize that I was in five pictures a year.
Find a church home. We want to find our "fit." Somewhere look forward to going every weekend. Part of this goal is to also get in the church habit. I want my son to grow-up going to church, participating in Sunday school, and kids choir. Those are some of my fondest memories from my childhood.
Make new friends. Making new friends is hard for me. I'm a naturally shy person. But we don't know many people with kids, and we want play dates and sleep overs (not for us, Silly, for Liam).
Blog more. I miss my blog. Just saying that makes me feel sad. It has been a source of such joy for me since it's inception (good movie, by the way). But it's hard to make time for it when you have a household to run, a family to feed, a job, and two great guys to spend time with. This goal will be hardest over the next three and a half months (during busy season), but hopefully I can do it. Even if I just do a picture dump. Or bullet points about our week.
Husband's goal:
Take more pictures. For Husband, life gets in the way of taking pictures every day. It's his passion, so this year he decided to make it a priority.
Do you think the Big Guy would be willing to add a few extra hours to every day? I'll let you know what he says.
3 Months Old
Nicknames: LiYUM, Booger, Booger Butt, Little Man, Handsome Man, Bubba, Boogs, Mister Man
Things I Could Do Without: Daddy and I can't figure-out anything we could do without. Daddy just said, "Month three was a good month." I agree!
Item/Toy We Love The Most: Your plug (pacifier). It saves us on a daily basis. When you're hungry, we can buy a few more minutes of time. When you're sleepy, it knocks you out quickly. Your daddy, plug, and I make a good team!
Item/Toy You Love The Most: Your hands. You really discovered your hands this month. One will catch your gaze, and you just stare at it. And then your eyes follow it as you bring it to your mouth, making your eyes cross. If you drop your plug, your fingers/hand is a worthy stand-in. Sometimes you'll make me think you're hungry, tired, or want your plug when really you just want to suck on your hands.
Thing I’m Loving Most Right Now: I love how snuggly you are when you just wake-up. You rest your head on my chest and are so content. And you let-out the sweetest, sleepiest coos. I could live in those moments for a lifetime. Also, I love the smile you give me when I come to get your after a nap. I lean over the railing of your crib and say, "Hey, Handsome." You flash the most swoon-worthy smile. My heart melts into a big puddle at my feet.
General:
Mommy went back to work this month, and you went to daycare. You love Mrs. Lois and Mrs. Jackie. You didn't sleep much at daycare the first week, and you would fall asleep super early at home. Dropping you off in the morning is hardest thing Mommy does all day.
This month you started sleeping through the night! Well, most of the time. The week before I went back to work you started to extend your night time rest. The first time you slept 6+ hours I panicked, jumped up, and made sure you were still breathing. You were. In fact, you were snoring!
Droll, oh the drool. You are a drooling fool!
You love to have your picture taken. When a camera is in your face, you calmly stare into the lens. You are fascinated.
You love any toy that makes noise. Whether it squeaks, rattles, or talks, you LOVE it.
When you take a bottle, you regularly suck-down 5 ounces (which is the size of the bottles we have). It may be time to get bigger bottles!
This month you really started to nice the Henrik and Fiona (the dogs). You watch them as they walk by and you'll stare at them if they're sitting near you. They love you so much! Especially Henrik. He's quietly protective, always wanting to be where you are.
You LOVE to lay and stretch-out. When we put you on the floor you start kicking and talking.
We moved your pack n' play out of our bedroom. Your swing, however, remains.
For comparison:
What I've Learned
Being a parent has taught me MANY things. Some sweet. Some funny. Some gross. All awesome.
1. This Halloween I noticed just how slutty 80% of the costumes are.
2. I'm more germ conscious, especially in public places. Gross!
a. On a similar note, instant hand sanitizer WILL dry out your cuticles.
3. My hunger and need to pee can wait, as long as it needs to.
4. You'd be amazed how quickly you can adjust to far less sleep.
5. When you give you son a kiss and he opens his mouth and deposits a mouth-full of saliva in your mouth, it's okay. You got a KISS. Come ON. Open mouth kisses from babies are the BEST.
6. RELAX.
7. I am stronger than I've ever given myself credit for.
8. I would do anything, ANYTHING for my son. Unspeakable ferocity.
9. Poo on your finger? Meh. Wipe it on your pajama pants in a pinch.
10. Poly-Vi-Sol STAINS EVERYTHING.
11. Who our real friends are.
12. Nothing cures a bad day like a laughing, smiling baby.
13. Waking-up a few times a night isn't hard when you have such a good reason for doing so.
14. Where I used to say never, I could TOTALLY be a SAHM.
15. Daycare is painful.
16. Breastfed poo DOES stink.
17. There's nothing like it!
And yes, I'm aware that I've ended a few of these in prepositions. Refer to #6.
Your (our) daily dose:
1. This Halloween I noticed just how slutty 80% of the costumes are.
2. I'm more germ conscious, especially in public places. Gross!
a. On a similar note, instant hand sanitizer WILL dry out your cuticles.
3. My hunger and need to pee can wait, as long as it needs to.
4. You'd be amazed how quickly you can adjust to far less sleep.
5. When you give you son a kiss and he opens his mouth and deposits a mouth-full of saliva in your mouth, it's okay. You got a KISS. Come ON. Open mouth kisses from babies are the BEST.
6. RELAX.
7. I am stronger than I've ever given myself credit for.
8. I would do anything, ANYTHING for my son. Unspeakable ferocity.
9. Poo on your finger? Meh. Wipe it on your pajama pants in a pinch.
10. Poly-Vi-Sol STAINS EVERYTHING.
11. Who our real friends are.
12. Nothing cures a bad day like a laughing, smiling baby.
13. Waking-up a few times a night isn't hard when you have such a good reason for doing so.
14. Where I used to say never, I could TOTALLY be a SAHM.
15. Daycare is painful.
16. Breastfed poo DOES stink.
17. There's nothing like it!
And yes, I'm aware that I've ended a few of these in prepositions. Refer to #6.
Your (our) daily dose:
Daycare, Week 1
Sunday night, I was prepared for a sleepless night. I just KNEW my mind would be racing counterclockwise around an oval track (SHOO-WEE!). Much to my surprise, sleep came easily. I suppose I have a three month-old to thank for that. Liam slept for 8 hours straight that night, but woke-up at 4:00 am. My alarm was set for 5:30 am. The whole “wake, change, nurse, back to sleep” process takes roughly an hour, so I was up for the day. First thought, gross. Can’t I just crawl back into bed? No, Betsy, you can’t. Instead, I went about my get ready routine that had been on the shelf for 12 weeks. Shower, make-up, hair. Here’s where it deviates… You have to get dressed last because you’re bound to get baby goo on you. So it went: Pack pump bag. Pack bottles for Liam, fill-out daycare report card. Wake-up baby. Change baby. Dress baby. Kiss, snuggle, love, hug, laugh with, and talk to baby. Feed baby. Dress myself. And get us out the door.
Luckily, I have an amazing husband who will take all my bags out to the car and start it (it’s been COLD here) before he leaves for work (which is about 10 minutes before Liam and I leave). Love him.
Overall, the morning of daycare 1 was uneventful. Husband did the drop-off with me. We moral supported each other. I started to get upset when we were walking to the nursery, but I checked my emotions at the door as best I could. After we said goodbye to him, one of the sweet daycare ladies, Miss Jackie (the ladies who work in the nursery are in the 70s, we’d guess), snatched him up, took him to a glider, and snuggled him to pieces. She knew all we wanted to see was him being loved. She’d obviously done the “first time drop-off” a few times.
My day at work passed rather quickly. I spent my time catching-up on emails and work, and catching-up with people. Much like the end of pregnancy, I was asked the same three questions over and over. This time, though, I didn’t mind. I could talk about that kid ALL DAY LONG. I called daycare twice. Each time settled my anxiety and quieted my racing mind.
Let me tell you – I have NEVER been so excited to go home in my entire life. I was trying to think of a way to describe it. ‘Tis the season, I kept coming back to this: Going home to your baby after being apart all day is like the feeling a five year-old experiences on Christmas Eve night… knowing something magical is about to happen. The anticipation mounts, and I start clock watching. About 30 minutes before I leave, I catch myself smiling every time I think about being home. When I walk to my car, I’m smiling. I’m smiling as I drive. I rush out of my car (smiling, duh!), drop my stuff (literally), and bound up the stairs. When I see that big head my world screeches to a stop (Husband is usually cuddling Liam in the glider, which faces away from the bedroom door). When I drop my face to his level, and say, “Heeeey, buddy,” I was rewarded with the BIGGEST smile. My heart melts, my breath catches in my chest, and my world resets on its axis. It was like I had just crept down the stairs and seen the pile of presents Santa had left for me under our glowing Christmas tree. It was magical. MAGICAL.
Daycare Day 2 and 3 passed much like Day 1, except they were harder. For Day 1, I had just spent all of Sunday with him so we hadn’t really been apart. By Day 3, I was sad. I was lonely. I missed him so much it felt like little pieces of my heart were crumbling. But again, each time I arrived home I was rewarded with a smile that reset me to “happy.”
Each morning, Liam has woken-up happy as can be and TALK-A-TIVE. He’s so tired when he gets home from daycare (he’s adjusting to sleeping through all the commotion – and by adjusting I mean not sleeping much at all) that he usually nurses and then falls asleep in our arms. He’ll wake-up anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours later, MAYBE stay up for a little while, nurse, and the he’s down for the night. Since we don’t get to catch-up at night, in the morning he wants to tell me ALL about his day. Here I am trying to nurse him, and he keeps rolling onto his back and talking my ear off. It would be completely frustrating if it wasn’t SO FLIPPING CUTE. So we just talk. He tells me about his day, the cute girl who shares his birthday, Miss Jackie and Miss Lois. I tell him how much I love him, how much I’ve missed him, and that I’m proud of how well he’s doing. I live for those moments. I used to get them all day every day. Now that I don’t, I savor them. I roll them around slowly inside my heart, each one leaving a permanent mark so I can reach down and munch on it when I’m missing him the most.
Someone at work asked me “how it was.” I assumed he meant how it was going being apart from Liam. When I began to tell him, he said, “No. How is it being a parent?” All I could do was smile. He said, “There aren’t words, are there? It’s magical. And you can’t grasp it until you feel it yourself.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
And I officially live for the weekends now.
So you (we) can get your fix:
Luckily, I have an amazing husband who will take all my bags out to the car and start it (it’s been COLD here) before he leaves for work (which is about 10 minutes before Liam and I leave). Love him.
Overall, the morning of daycare 1 was uneventful. Husband did the drop-off with me. We moral supported each other. I started to get upset when we were walking to the nursery, but I checked my emotions at the door as best I could. After we said goodbye to him, one of the sweet daycare ladies, Miss Jackie (the ladies who work in the nursery are in the 70s, we’d guess), snatched him up, took him to a glider, and snuggled him to pieces. She knew all we wanted to see was him being loved. She’d obviously done the “first time drop-off” a few times.
My day at work passed rather quickly. I spent my time catching-up on emails and work, and catching-up with people. Much like the end of pregnancy, I was asked the same three questions over and over. This time, though, I didn’t mind. I could talk about that kid ALL DAY LONG. I called daycare twice. Each time settled my anxiety and quieted my racing mind.
Let me tell you – I have NEVER been so excited to go home in my entire life. I was trying to think of a way to describe it. ‘Tis the season, I kept coming back to this: Going home to your baby after being apart all day is like the feeling a five year-old experiences on Christmas Eve night… knowing something magical is about to happen. The anticipation mounts, and I start clock watching. About 30 minutes before I leave, I catch myself smiling every time I think about being home. When I walk to my car, I’m smiling. I’m smiling as I drive. I rush out of my car (smiling, duh!), drop my stuff (literally), and bound up the stairs. When I see that big head my world screeches to a stop (Husband is usually cuddling Liam in the glider, which faces away from the bedroom door). When I drop my face to his level, and say, “Heeeey, buddy,” I was rewarded with the BIGGEST smile. My heart melts, my breath catches in my chest, and my world resets on its axis. It was like I had just crept down the stairs and seen the pile of presents Santa had left for me under our glowing Christmas tree. It was magical. MAGICAL.
Daycare Day 2 and 3 passed much like Day 1, except they were harder. For Day 1, I had just spent all of Sunday with him so we hadn’t really been apart. By Day 3, I was sad. I was lonely. I missed him so much it felt like little pieces of my heart were crumbling. But again, each time I arrived home I was rewarded with a smile that reset me to “happy.”
Each morning, Liam has woken-up happy as can be and TALK-A-TIVE. He’s so tired when he gets home from daycare (he’s adjusting to sleeping through all the commotion – and by adjusting I mean not sleeping much at all) that he usually nurses and then falls asleep in our arms. He’ll wake-up anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours later, MAYBE stay up for a little while, nurse, and the he’s down for the night. Since we don’t get to catch-up at night, in the morning he wants to tell me ALL about his day. Here I am trying to nurse him, and he keeps rolling onto his back and talking my ear off. It would be completely frustrating if it wasn’t SO FLIPPING CUTE. So we just talk. He tells me about his day, the cute girl who shares his birthday, Miss Jackie and Miss Lois. I tell him how much I love him, how much I’ve missed him, and that I’m proud of how well he’s doing. I live for those moments. I used to get them all day every day. Now that I don’t, I savor them. I roll them around slowly inside my heart, each one leaving a permanent mark so I can reach down and munch on it when I’m missing him the most.
Someone at work asked me “how it was.” I assumed he meant how it was going being apart from Liam. When I began to tell him, he said, “No. How is it being a parent?” All I could do was smile. He said, “There aren’t words, are there? It’s magical. And you can’t grasp it until you feel it yourself.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
And I officially live for the weekends now.
So you (we) can get your fix:
Two Month Check-Up (a month late)
I'm back at work now (SAD FACE). That means two (of many) things: (1) I don't get to spend all day with the cutest blessing in the world and (2) I have a lunch hour, which means time to blog. Posts have been sparse of as late. When Liam was awake, I'd much rather be hanging out with him (sorry, Followers!). And when he was sleeping there was laundry, cleaning, cooking, and like to tackle. So here's a snipet about his two month appointment, a little late :)
Liam had his two month appointment on November 18th. Driving to the appointment, I remember thinking, "TWO MONTHS?!?! Where has time gone?" And look at me now - 12 weeks, and I'm huddled in my cubicle at work.
I went solo on this trip. When I'm alone, I really appreciate how much easier it is to have a wingman. Mainly to help carry stuff. At two months, his head control doesn't allow me to carry him with one arm, so I took the carseat. And a diaper bag. And myself. Getting in wasn't the problem - everything was nicely packed away. It was getting around once in and leaving that was a bear. Liam's sweet Pediatrican carried the carseat twice for me. Note to self: don't wear calf height Uggs when your kid has to get shots, you'll sweat your feet off.
First up was nakkey Liam and the scale. 14 pounds, 8 ounces. Hello chunker! Liam got a few cat calls from other mothers as we walked to the scale. Cutest moobies (that's man boobies for those of you who aren't down with the lingo) EVER. After the scale, he was measured. 24 1/2 inches. He was 97th percentile for weight and 95th percentile for height.
The pediatrician poked and proded, and Liam just watched him intently. I feel so blessed to have such a happy baby. For once, he didn't poop when his temperature was taken. Woop! And no blow out and related funny story. Thanks, Bud!
And then came the shots. Five of them. FIVE. Three in one leg and two in the other. It was awful. The nurse was done in less than a minute, but Liam SCREAMED. My mommy heart burst into a million pieces. I quickly mended it with Elmer's and soothed and shooshed until he calmed down. Thankfully, he fell asleep on the car ride home (that is after he screamed himself silly and sleepy). When we got home, however, he woke-up and started SCREAMING again. He was crying and screaming so hard at one point that he wasn't making any noise. Poor guy was in some serious pain. The pediatrician said I could give him Children's Tylenol. I had Little Fevers. I'm no doctor, so I wanted to make sure they were the same thing. Two calls to my mom. THREE calls to the pediatrician's office, the phone was BUSY EACH TIME. Frantic searching for my SIL's work number (she's a pharmcist), not easy to find online. I finally get her number, call, and find out they are the same thing. All of this is happening while Liam is either in my arms or laying on the bed screaming. He was on the bed because I couldn't hear anything on the phone or I was about to burst into tears and needed to walk away. When I talked to SIL, my voice was quivering and wavering like a leaf in the fall in 25 mph winds. After the medicine, he calmed down, ate, and SLEPT. He got medicine every four to six hours until the next afternoon. After the intial meltdown, he was great. TROOPER!
To compare:
Here's a tasty dose of L Bean for your viewing pleasure:
2 Months Old
Nicknames: Li, LiYUM, Booger, Booger Butt, Little Man, Handsome Man, Bubba, Boogs, Mister Man
Things I Could Do Without: Sometimes you sleep 4 hours at a time, but most of the time you sleep 2 1/2 to 3 hours at a time at night. I am REALLY hoping you extend your nighttime snoozes by the time I go back to work. If we don't catch you (and put you down) before you get overly tired, you FIGHT sleep. Sometimes it takes HOURS to get you to fall asleep.
Item/Toy We Love The Most: The swing is still our savior. You love to look at the stars that light-up and swirl around the room. If we put you in the swing and don't turn-on the stars, you stare at the globe in anticipation. So cute. Not only does the swing help you fall asleep when you're fighting it, but it helps you to stay asleep longer. THANK YOU for that, Swing.
Item/Toy You Love The Most: You still love your play mat. But recently, you've really fallen in love with your animal-themed bouncy seat. It has three plastic animals that dangle over your head, one of which plays music when you pull the attached string. You LOVE the music. We are so ready for you to be able to pull the string yourself so we don't have to pull it every 20 seconds. Much like the stars on your swing, you look at the animals in anticipation when the music stops.
Things I’m Loving Most Right Now: Your smile. Oh my gosh. Your smile melts my heart. You are such a smiley little baby. When I lean-down to pick you up from your crib (which is really a pack n play that's in our room) and say, "Hey, handsome," you smile so big at me. When you take a long nap during the day, I find myself missing you and wishing you would just wake-up already!
General:
You've started to rub your eyes when you get tired. It is absolutely adorable. It's been so fun to see you gain more control over your arms/hands. I feel like I trim your nails constantly; if I don't, you'll maul your face. Or Daddy's - you scratched him GOOD on his neck.
A week ago your Grammy was trying to get you to fall asleep by swinging you in her arms. Twice you closed your eyes and fell asleep and then WHAM, you opened your eyes. Your poor Grammy kept saying, "Why does he do that?! He was ASLEEP!"
You only accept your pacifier if (1) you're sleepy and trying to fall asleep or (2) you're hungry. We didn't even offer you a pacifer until you were about three weeks old. When we did finally offer it to you, we did so with trepidation. First of all, we really wanted breastfeeding to go well so we wanted to prevent nipple confusion. Second, we didn't want you to end-up one of those 18-month olds running around the house with a pacifier in your mouth at all times. So it has worked-out perfectly that you only want it under certain circumstances.
At your Daddy's soccer game this past weekend, you were sitting on my lap trying to poop (have I mentioned how funny you are when you try to poop? We laugh and say you get greedy with your poops because you'll be sitting there grunting away when you've already recently pooped). And poop you did! I went to change you in your stroller, and I noticed poop on the FRONT of your onesie. That's the thing about pooping when you're sitting - it all comes FORWARD. You ended-up getting poop in your belly button. Very impressive, Little Man.
You got your first cold last week (and you still have it). Even though you clearly don't feel 100%, you are still as smiley as ever.
We're still waiting for that first baby laugh. We can't wait!
I'm convinced that you'll be left-handed. We'll see if my theory pans-out.
We love to prop you up on our legs and sing pat-a-cake with you. We clap your hands, and you LOVE it. You smile so big, and I can tell you want to let out a big laugh. I don't know what it is about that song, but it's the only one you react to so happily.
Sometimes when you're nursing you'll disconnect, look-up at me, and smile so big. It's a sheepish little grin. Love it.
Your eyes are still blue. So blue. When I was pregnant with you, your Daddy and I always wondered what color your eyes would be. I have dark brown eyes, so we thought for sure the brown would beat-out the blue. Secretly, we wanted you to have big blue eyes. As the weeks passed, your eyes got more and more blue. You're going to be a heart breaker!
You grew-out of your newborn sized clothes by two weeks. At two months, you're wearing three month clothes, but some of them are getting small, especially in the arms. A few onesies are like three quarter sleeves! We think you'll be in six-month clothes by three months old. You're going to be TALL, just like your Mommy and Daddy.
Your head control is AWESOME! Each day, you spend time in your Bumbo seat and sitting up in our laps. You're able to keep your head up with little help, and you can turn your head to follow objects without much support.
For comparison:
The easiest way to see the difference is compare the size of the month sticker. Wowzer!
Bits + Pieces
1. My baby snores. We're talking SNORES. And he has since birth. How awesome is that?!
2. This week Liam stuck to the same schedule for three days in a row. And then he got sick and WHAM, we're scheduleless.
3. Even though it's over three weeks away, I am consumed by the fact that I will be separated from my favorite person in the world (Husband being a close second) on an almost daily basis. Any idea how hard it's going to be to say goodbye to this face? I now know that I could totally be a SAHM.
4. Liam smiles all of the time, and it melts my heart each time. He smiles the biggest when we sing pat-a-cake and clap his hands together. I CANNOT wait for that first laugh.
5. I now realize how hard it is to make time/room for working out when there's a baby around. Sure, I can take him in the jog stroller, but when do I shower? Sure, I can put him in his swing while I shower, but he'll probably be screaming by the time I get out.
6. I still haven't been apart from him, and I'm not looking forward to the first time (whenever that is).
7. I still have that sweet tooth that developed during pregnancy. Much to my chagrin.
8. My dad and his family are coming to town Thanksgiving, and we are SO excited. My step mom and half siblings haven't met Liam yet, so it's going to be a good time!
9. Liam has his two-month appointment next week and shots are on the schedule. Not excited. I'm hoping our Ped will start charting his growth and give us some percentiles. Very excited.
10. Being a mom is so much better than I ever imagined.
2. This week Liam stuck to the same schedule for three days in a row. And then he got sick and WHAM, we're scheduleless.
3. Even though it's over three weeks away, I am consumed by the fact that I will be separated from my favorite person in the world (Husband being a close second) on an almost daily basis. Any idea how hard it's going to be to say goodbye to this face? I now know that I could totally be a SAHM.
4. Liam smiles all of the time, and it melts my heart each time. He smiles the biggest when we sing pat-a-cake and clap his hands together. I CANNOT wait for that first laugh.
5. I now realize how hard it is to make time/room for working out when there's a baby around. Sure, I can take him in the jog stroller, but when do I shower? Sure, I can put him in his swing while I shower, but he'll probably be screaming by the time I get out.
6. I still haven't been apart from him, and I'm not looking forward to the first time (whenever that is).
7. I still have that sweet tooth that developed during pregnancy. Much to my chagrin.
8. My dad and his family are coming to town Thanksgiving, and we are SO excited. My step mom and half siblings haven't met Liam yet, so it's going to be a good time!
9. Liam has his two-month appointment next week and shots are on the schedule. Not excited. I'm hoping our Ped will start charting his growth and give us some percentiles. Very excited.
10. Being a mom is so much better than I ever imagined.
My Road to Recovery
Warning: Boys, you may want to steer clear of this one. I'm just sayin'.
For me, recovery was far worse than labor and delivery. When I was in labor, I found sanity and relief in the fact that it would END and it would end soon. With recovery, there's no telling when I'll be back to normal. And who's to say that I'll ever feel normal again. Maybe I'll have to redefine my normal.
The fluids, oh the fluids. I spent the first week and a half wearing the mesh panties that hospital gave me (they were so comfortable. I wish it was appropriate to wear them all of the time) and a GIANT maxi-pad. Every time I would nurse, my uterus would contract and cramp, and I would bleed. That's just how it goes. Over the weeks, I slowly stepped down the size of the pad. I'm a tampon girl, so wearing a pad was awful (although the thought of a tampon right now makes me shudder). I was also given a steroid foam to help with general healing of my lady bits. For me, putting a pad soaked in witch hazel on the maxi-pad was really soothing. My bleeding really slowed by four weeks, and it ended by the end of five weeks. I was SO glad to see the pads go. G-R-O-S-S.
Luckily, I didn't tear. I am so thankful for that. I didn't tear because my doctor massaged my perineum for an hour. And by massaged, I mean he stretched it. At one point he told me that I would be screaming from what he was doing if I didn't have the epidural. I remember him trying to make room for Liam's head by putting both of his hands ALL THE WAY in my lady bits. Ouch. All of that stretching left me bruised and battered. For the first two weeks of Liam's life, I went from the bed to the glider to nurse and back to the bed. Thankfully Liam only ate and slept at that point, but I missed-out on really enjoying the first two to three weeks at home with my son. But I'm not exaggerating when I say I couldn't sit down. When I could finally sit (on the couch and at the kitchen table), I couldn't sit without a pillow. Even in the glider (which has a cushion) I used a pillow. It took me four weeks to get rid of the pillow. After that, I avoided hard surfaces as much as possible or I would sit more on one side of my butt. Today, I am sore at the end of the day. It's manageable, and more annoying than anything. At my appointment two weeks ago, my doctor said it can take up to 12 weeks to really start feeling good, and I totally believe him.
Along with my perineum, my right labia fell victim to delivery. We're not entirely sure how it happened because everything happened so fast, but we think it got caught-up in the vacuum. Sitting forward HURT. The labia went beyond uncomfortable and into painful. It would also bleed. The only comfortable position for me to sleep was on my side (laying on my back hurt my butt until about week five and laying on my baby feeding boobies still isn't an option), but I HAD to have a pillow between my legs. The pressure on my labia without the pillow was terrible. I didn't know this until my doctors appointment at five weeks postpartum, but nursing is an estrogen suppressant. And estrogen is what heals the wreckage that is your lady bits. So if you nurse, you heal slower. My doctor barely moved my labia, and I was squirming and saying, "Ouch, ow, ow ow." He sent me home with an estrogen cream to apply at night. I've been doing it for two weeks now, and it has made a HUGE difference. I actually feel like my labia is healing. I am so thankful for that, because I was worried that I would be something that I'd have to deal with for a long time.
Other than the lady bits issues, I was exhausted for the first two weeks. Not sleepy tired, but just physically exhausted. But I suppose that's to be expected with a new baby at home :)
For me, recovery sucked. I loved being pregnant, and I love being a mom. I even love having a newborn around who wakes-up every two to three hours. For those reasons, I definitely want more children. But to be honest, recovering again terrifies me. In the end, it's completely worth it. And maybe next time the birth won't be so traumatic and recovery won't be so hard. It's definitely not enough to keep me away from having a second... eventually.
For me, recovery was far worse than labor and delivery. When I was in labor, I found sanity and relief in the fact that it would END and it would end soon. With recovery, there's no telling when I'll be back to normal. And who's to say that I'll ever feel normal again. Maybe I'll have to redefine my normal.
The fluids, oh the fluids. I spent the first week and a half wearing the mesh panties that hospital gave me (they were so comfortable. I wish it was appropriate to wear them all of the time) and a GIANT maxi-pad. Every time I would nurse, my uterus would contract and cramp, and I would bleed. That's just how it goes. Over the weeks, I slowly stepped down the size of the pad. I'm a tampon girl, so wearing a pad was awful (although the thought of a tampon right now makes me shudder). I was also given a steroid foam to help with general healing of my lady bits. For me, putting a pad soaked in witch hazel on the maxi-pad was really soothing. My bleeding really slowed by four weeks, and it ended by the end of five weeks. I was SO glad to see the pads go. G-R-O-S-S.
Luckily, I didn't tear. I am so thankful for that. I didn't tear because my doctor massaged my perineum for an hour. And by massaged, I mean he stretched it. At one point he told me that I would be screaming from what he was doing if I didn't have the epidural. I remember him trying to make room for Liam's head by putting both of his hands ALL THE WAY in my lady bits. Ouch. All of that stretching left me bruised and battered. For the first two weeks of Liam's life, I went from the bed to the glider to nurse and back to the bed. Thankfully Liam only ate and slept at that point, but I missed-out on really enjoying the first two to three weeks at home with my son. But I'm not exaggerating when I say I couldn't sit down. When I could finally sit (on the couch and at the kitchen table), I couldn't sit without a pillow. Even in the glider (which has a cushion) I used a pillow. It took me four weeks to get rid of the pillow. After that, I avoided hard surfaces as much as possible or I would sit more on one side of my butt. Today, I am sore at the end of the day. It's manageable, and more annoying than anything. At my appointment two weeks ago, my doctor said it can take up to 12 weeks to really start feeling good, and I totally believe him.
Along with my perineum, my right labia fell victim to delivery. We're not entirely sure how it happened because everything happened so fast, but we think it got caught-up in the vacuum. Sitting forward HURT. The labia went beyond uncomfortable and into painful. It would also bleed. The only comfortable position for me to sleep was on my side (laying on my back hurt my butt until about week five and laying on my baby feeding boobies still isn't an option), but I HAD to have a pillow between my legs. The pressure on my labia without the pillow was terrible. I didn't know this until my doctors appointment at five weeks postpartum, but nursing is an estrogen suppressant. And estrogen is what heals the wreckage that is your lady bits. So if you nurse, you heal slower. My doctor barely moved my labia, and I was squirming and saying, "Ouch, ow, ow ow." He sent me home with an estrogen cream to apply at night. I've been doing it for two weeks now, and it has made a HUGE difference. I actually feel like my labia is healing. I am so thankful for that, because I was worried that I would be something that I'd have to deal with for a long time.
Other than the lady bits issues, I was exhausted for the first two weeks. Not sleepy tired, but just physically exhausted. But I suppose that's to be expected with a new baby at home :)
For me, recovery sucked. I loved being pregnant, and I love being a mom. I even love having a newborn around who wakes-up every two to three hours. For those reasons, I definitely want more children. But to be honest, recovering again terrifies me. In the end, it's completely worth it. And maybe next time the birth won't be so traumatic and recovery won't be so hard. It's definitely not enough to keep me away from having a second... eventually.
Birth Story: Part V
This post should probably come with a warning: It's TMI.
First, let me say this: Pushing sucked. SUCKED for me. I had read and been told that pushing brought some relief to the pain and pressure. LIES. At least it didn't for me. When I finally got to 10 cm, I was feeling a lot of pressure in my butt. The pressure doesn't come in your lady bits, it literally comes in your "bottom," as the PC nurses and doctors say. The pressure isn't painful, but it sure is annoying and uncomfortable.
Second: Epidurals are great because they take away the pain. That is until your Nurse and Doctor decide to TURN IT DOWN. Yeah, they don't tell you that in the birth classes. Many doctors like to turn down or turn OFF the epidural to create more urgency for the mother to push. NOT COOL. At one point, DES looked at me and literally said, "Since it's you, I'm being nice and I haven't turned it off yet." So not cool. With the epidural almost turned off, things started to hurt, even the pressure.
By the time I started to push, I was exhausted. I hadn't eaten anything since the afternoon before. I don't know about you, but I'm that person that gets light-headed and weak after four or five hours without food. So I was hurting for some sugar/calories. I pushed in an inclined position on my back. When I started to feel the pressure/pain of each contraction, DES wanted me to lift my head and shoulders off the bed, put my chin to my chest, pull my legs back with my hands, and push. Husband was holding the right leg and Awesome Nurse Pam was on the left. I pushed three times for 10 seconds during contraction, taking one deep breath in between each push. With my second, I will refuse to pull-back on my legs on my own. I was pulling back so hard that my arms would start to shake. I feel like all of my energy and concentration was wasted on the wrong action. Next time, I'll use the Nurse and Husband ONLY to bear-down against.
For whatever reason, I couldn't focus on pushing in the correct area. In short, I wasn't a very good pusher. I was a quiet, focused laborer, but a terrible pusher. Well, maybe terrible is a strong word. I wasn't very skilled. I only had a handful of pushes that were REALLY concentrated in the right area. Also in hindsight, I don't know if pushing on my back was the best position for me. Maybe laying on my side or squatting would have been better. With the epidural, however, I was limited to my back.
Pushing was also hard because Liam was big. He weighed over 8 pounds, and he had a big head (at 37 weeks, his head was measuring 42 weeks. YEAH. Feel sorry for me). And I'm not the biggest/widest person in the world. DES kept saying that I only needed to get him 1 cm further to get him past my pelvic bone and then he'd be free! I just couldn't do it. At one point, ANP told me to reach down and feel his head. She kept saying, "It's right there, it's right there. Come on Betsy!" I had zero interest. She wanted me to be motivated by the fact that he was so close. After I continued to refuse, Liam continued to be stuck, and Liam's heart rate continued to drop with each contraction, she finally grabbed my hand and put it on his head. It felt wet and mushy. Feeling his head didn't do anything for my motivation. I was exhausted, I was in pain, and I wanted him OUT.
And then he his my perineum. HOLY CRAP. It hurt. It hurt so badly. I can't even explain the pain. This is when I started screaming. Literally. I'd been SO quiet and focused through the entire experience, until the last five minutes of pushing. I remember DES tell ANP to get the vacuum. I'm pushing and screaming and making all sorts of animal noises. I kept repeating, "GET HIM OUT. GET HIM OUT NOW." I was done. I was exhausted, frustrated, in pain, and now I was scared. Things were getting serious, fast. DES told me that during the next contraction he wanted me to take the oxygen mask off and push until he told me to stop. He was going to use the vacuum to get Liam out. I wasn't getting the job done, and his heart rate was getting really low. At this point, I shut my eyes, and I shut them TIGHT. I knew I didn't want to see what was about to happen. It would scare/traumatize me. I didn't see any of it, but I sure felt it.
It all happened so fast. The contraction came, and I bared-down. I felt DES get the vacuum in place, and I felt him pull. The feeling of Liam coming out is hard to explain. I swear I felt gushing fluid, but I'm not sure because my eyes were closed. It hurt. It hurts bunches. It felt like it took forever for him to get out. And all the while I'm screaming (I swear it was like something from a movie. I just couldn't control it. I wouldn't be a very good Scientologist). When he was out, I opened my eyes. DES was holding him upside down and suctioning his mouth and nose. Husband got really emotional, but I was really out of it. My brain and heart couldn't connect with what had just happened (read: my son was just born!). Liam wasn't crying, and he looked purple. I kept saying, "He needs to cry. He's not crying. He just needs to cry." The nurses (more nurses came to investigate when they heard my screaming. I wish I was joking, but I'm being totally serious) whisked him away to the warming station to work their magic, and he finally cried after what felt like an eternity. Really it was just 10 to 15 seconds. It took me a while to bond with Liam and the fact that I'd just given birth because I didn't get to hold him right away. I had dreamt of Liam being born and put on my chest immediately. Of Husband cutting the cord. Of him taking his first big breath right there in front of me. But it didn't matter in the end because he was healthy.
I remember asking DES why it still hurt. Oh yeah, the placenta. It didn't take long for me to deliver the placenta, Liam had cleared a path for it. Husband said it was the funniest thing seeing DES holding/tugging on the cord that was hanging out of my lady bits.
After the placenta was out, it STILL hurt. Why!?!?! Oh yeah, I'd just given birth. I guess I expected all of the pain to just go away. Also, the vacuum snagged my right labia and tore it. Yeah, chew on that one, Ladies. It wasn't something that could really be stitched-up either. Thankfully I didn't tear, and I have DES to thank for that. He spent the entire hour+ of pushing stretching my perineum. Husband said at one point he looked down and saw both of DES's hands in my lady bits and he was PULLING down. I was sore for WEEKS from the stretching (I'll detail my recovery in another post), but I am so thankful that I didn't tear.
Eventually, I got to hold Liam and my entire world changed in a millisecond. I will never forget how he looked up at me and just stared when he heard my voice. I was a mom, and I was my son. It doesn't get much better than that.
First, let me say this: Pushing sucked. SUCKED for me. I had read and been told that pushing brought some relief to the pain and pressure. LIES. At least it didn't for me. When I finally got to 10 cm, I was feeling a lot of pressure in my butt. The pressure doesn't come in your lady bits, it literally comes in your "bottom," as the PC nurses and doctors say. The pressure isn't painful, but it sure is annoying and uncomfortable.
Second: Epidurals are great because they take away the pain. That is until your Nurse and Doctor decide to TURN IT DOWN. Yeah, they don't tell you that in the birth classes. Many doctors like to turn down or turn OFF the epidural to create more urgency for the mother to push. NOT COOL. At one point, DES looked at me and literally said, "Since it's you, I'm being nice and I haven't turned it off yet." So not cool. With the epidural almost turned off, things started to hurt, even the pressure.
By the time I started to push, I was exhausted. I hadn't eaten anything since the afternoon before. I don't know about you, but I'm that person that gets light-headed and weak after four or five hours without food. So I was hurting for some sugar/calories. I pushed in an inclined position on my back. When I started to feel the pressure/pain of each contraction, DES wanted me to lift my head and shoulders off the bed, put my chin to my chest, pull my legs back with my hands, and push. Husband was holding the right leg and Awesome Nurse Pam was on the left. I pushed three times for 10 seconds during contraction, taking one deep breath in between each push. With my second, I will refuse to pull-back on my legs on my own. I was pulling back so hard that my arms would start to shake. I feel like all of my energy and concentration was wasted on the wrong action. Next time, I'll use the Nurse and Husband ONLY to bear-down against.
For whatever reason, I couldn't focus on pushing in the correct area. In short, I wasn't a very good pusher. I was a quiet, focused laborer, but a terrible pusher. Well, maybe terrible is a strong word. I wasn't very skilled. I only had a handful of pushes that were REALLY concentrated in the right area. Also in hindsight, I don't know if pushing on my back was the best position for me. Maybe laying on my side or squatting would have been better. With the epidural, however, I was limited to my back.
Pushing was also hard because Liam was big. He weighed over 8 pounds, and he had a big head (at 37 weeks, his head was measuring 42 weeks. YEAH. Feel sorry for me). And I'm not the biggest/widest person in the world. DES kept saying that I only needed to get him 1 cm further to get him past my pelvic bone and then he'd be free! I just couldn't do it. At one point, ANP told me to reach down and feel his head. She kept saying, "It's right there, it's right there. Come on Betsy!" I had zero interest. She wanted me to be motivated by the fact that he was so close. After I continued to refuse, Liam continued to be stuck, and Liam's heart rate continued to drop with each contraction, she finally grabbed my hand and put it on his head. It felt wet and mushy. Feeling his head didn't do anything for my motivation. I was exhausted, I was in pain, and I wanted him OUT.
And then he his my perineum. HOLY CRAP. It hurt. It hurt so badly. I can't even explain the pain. This is when I started screaming. Literally. I'd been SO quiet and focused through the entire experience, until the last five minutes of pushing. I remember DES tell ANP to get the vacuum. I'm pushing and screaming and making all sorts of animal noises. I kept repeating, "GET HIM OUT. GET HIM OUT NOW." I was done. I was exhausted, frustrated, in pain, and now I was scared. Things were getting serious, fast. DES told me that during the next contraction he wanted me to take the oxygen mask off and push until he told me to stop. He was going to use the vacuum to get Liam out. I wasn't getting the job done, and his heart rate was getting really low. At this point, I shut my eyes, and I shut them TIGHT. I knew I didn't want to see what was about to happen. It would scare/traumatize me. I didn't see any of it, but I sure felt it.
It all happened so fast. The contraction came, and I bared-down. I felt DES get the vacuum in place, and I felt him pull. The feeling of Liam coming out is hard to explain. I swear I felt gushing fluid, but I'm not sure because my eyes were closed. It hurt. It hurts bunches. It felt like it took forever for him to get out. And all the while I'm screaming (I swear it was like something from a movie. I just couldn't control it. I wouldn't be a very good Scientologist). When he was out, I opened my eyes. DES was holding him upside down and suctioning his mouth and nose. Husband got really emotional, but I was really out of it. My brain and heart couldn't connect with what had just happened (read: my son was just born!). Liam wasn't crying, and he looked purple. I kept saying, "He needs to cry. He's not crying. He just needs to cry." The nurses (more nurses came to investigate when they heard my screaming. I wish I was joking, but I'm being totally serious) whisked him away to the warming station to work their magic, and he finally cried after what felt like an eternity. Really it was just 10 to 15 seconds. It took me a while to bond with Liam and the fact that I'd just given birth because I didn't get to hold him right away. I had dreamt of Liam being born and put on my chest immediately. Of Husband cutting the cord. Of him taking his first big breath right there in front of me. But it didn't matter in the end because he was healthy.
After the placenta was out, it STILL hurt. Why!?!?! Oh yeah, I'd just given birth. I guess I expected all of the pain to just go away. Also, the vacuum snagged my right labia and tore it. Yeah, chew on that one, Ladies. It wasn't something that could really be stitched-up either. Thankfully I didn't tear, and I have DES to thank for that. He spent the entire hour+ of pushing stretching my perineum. Husband said at one point he looked down and saw both of DES's hands in my lady bits and he was PULLING down. I was sore for WEEKS from the stretching (I'll detail my recovery in another post), but I am so thankful that I didn't tear.
Eventually, I got to hold Liam and my entire world changed in a millisecond. I will never forget how he looked up at me and just stared when he heard my voice. I was a mom, and I was my son. It doesn't get much better than that.
Breastfeeding (Boys, this may be TMI)
Before Liam's arrival, I read about breastfeeding. A lot. It was the one thing that I was uber passionate (and excited) about. I HAD to breastfeed. It HAD to go well. I HAD to be as prepared as possible. If you can do it, breast is best, as they say. It's best for baby and it's best for mom. Did you know that breastfeeding decreases a woman's risk for certain types of cancers? I didn't until our birth class. Just another reason to breastfeed. It also burns extra calories (which believe me, you'll want once that baby is out and the belly and thighs are still there). And um, hi, it's FREE. Formula isn't cheap, friends.
I wanted to be successful at breastfeeding so badly that I was convinced I would fail or struggle. I prayed and prayed. Other than a healthy Liam (and mommy), there wasn't a single thing that I prayed about more. Silly me for letting doubt creep in.
Breastfeeding was amazing from the very beginning. Because of Liam's semi-traumatic entrance into the world, I didn't have a chance to breastfeed for a few hours (he made a trip to the nursery for monitoring instead). Since I was hoping to pop him out and then immediately breastfeed, of course I panicked. I kept telling the nurses that I needed to breastfeed. And I kept asking when I could breastfeed. But for no reason. Not only did Liam latch-on right away, but my milk came in 36 hours after he was born. I woke-up Wednesday night to nurse and noticed that my boobs were suddenly GIGANTIC. Hello milk supply!
For me, the hardest part of breastfeeding initially was finding a position that was comfortable. We brought the Boppy to the hospital, but I quickly learned that it wasn't very supportive. First, it wasn't big enough. Second, it was sturdy enough. As a breastfeeding pillow (at least for us) the Boppy was worthless (as an infant positioner, however, it's awesome!). The lactation consultant at the hospital (LC) recommended the football hold. Eventually, Liam and I got the hang of the football. After a week or so at home, it was clear that Liam had outgrown the football, so we transitioned to the cradle hold. From the first cradle hold, it was obvious that Liam liked this hold the best. You have to find that works best for you and your babe. And a good pillow certainly helps. We use a hand-me-down pillow that's actually meant for twins. It's big and it's sturdy. It's amazing.
On one of our many trips to Babies R Us, we purchased a breast pump. We got the Medela In Style Advanced. I adore this pump. Since my goal is to breastfeed for at least a year, I will need a dependable, efficient (read: FAST) breast pump for pumping at work. In the hospital, the LC taught me how to set-up and use the pump. I don't remember when I first decided to use the pump, but I knew I wamted a healthy supply in our freezer before I went back to work. Pumping in addition to nursing has tricked my body into producing more milk than Liam needs on a daily basis (technically it's over production. Eventually, and I'm totally dreading the discomfort of this, I'll have to back-off the pumping in addition to nursing). We have a TON of milk in the freezer. By a ton, I mean 300+ ounces. Probably way more than we'll ever need, but it feels so good to have the back-up. If my supply suddenly dries up for whatever reason, we're covered for a few weeks (we're planning to buy a deep freeze this week which will allow the milk to last longer). And did you know that you can donate breast milk? Thank you 19 Kids and Counting for that tid bit. The only down side to pumping is that my boobs fill-up and get uncomfortable at night when Liam goes longer periods into between sessions. Which causes my let down to be STRONG. Like, strong strong. Like, sorry Buddy that was my bad, strong.
Speaking of let downs... that's my only complaint about breastfeeding. I hate the feeling. HATE it. It's especially strong when I'm full. My mom describes it as a warm tingling, but I describe it more like a warm burning. It doesn't hurt. That's the wrong word. It's mildly uncomfortable. Annoying.
Even though I'm breastfeeding, it is also important that we acclimate Liam to the bottle. A friend told me about the Breastflow bottle. Instead of telling you all about it, I'll let you read for yourself if you're interested. We introduced the bottle at three weeks. Not too early, not too late. Although he had a confused look on his face since Daddy was feeding him, he took to it quickly. I've learned the hard way tha\t feeding him with a bottle doesn't work for me. He just looks at me like, "Um, you have something WAY better to offer. I REFUSE!" These days we do anywhere from one to three bottles a day, depending on how much time we spend out of the house. I am yet to nurse in public. Makes me nervous! I'm sure it will happen eventually. We need a decent nursing cover first. I pumped in the car on the way home from Carter Mountain last weekend, and I used a blanket. Not easy.
I'm not going to lie, there have been a couple 2 am wake-up calls where I wished we could just add some powder and shake. Overall, though, I've really enjoying breastfeeding. I can't explain the bond I feel with my son when we nurse. He makes the cutest sounds when he nurses. He rests his hands in the sweetest places. And he gets SO excited when he's really hungry, and I'm getting him situated. Even in the middle of the night, I live for the Mommy-Liam time.
I wanted to be successful at breastfeeding so badly that I was convinced I would fail or struggle. I prayed and prayed. Other than a healthy Liam (and mommy), there wasn't a single thing that I prayed about more. Silly me for letting doubt creep in.
Breastfeeding was amazing from the very beginning. Because of Liam's semi-traumatic entrance into the world, I didn't have a chance to breastfeed for a few hours (he made a trip to the nursery for monitoring instead). Since I was hoping to pop him out and then immediately breastfeed, of course I panicked. I kept telling the nurses that I needed to breastfeed. And I kept asking when I could breastfeed. But for no reason. Not only did Liam latch-on right away, but my milk came in 36 hours after he was born. I woke-up Wednesday night to nurse and noticed that my boobs were suddenly GIGANTIC. Hello milk supply!
For me, the hardest part of breastfeeding initially was finding a position that was comfortable. We brought the Boppy to the hospital, but I quickly learned that it wasn't very supportive. First, it wasn't big enough. Second, it was sturdy enough. As a breastfeeding pillow (at least for us) the Boppy was worthless (as an infant positioner, however, it's awesome!). The lactation consultant at the hospital (LC) recommended the football hold. Eventually, Liam and I got the hang of the football. After a week or so at home, it was clear that Liam had outgrown the football, so we transitioned to the cradle hold. From the first cradle hold, it was obvious that Liam liked this hold the best. You have to find that works best for you and your babe. And a good pillow certainly helps. We use a hand-me-down pillow that's actually meant for twins. It's big and it's sturdy. It's amazing.
On one of our many trips to Babies R Us, we purchased a breast pump. We got the Medela In Style Advanced. I adore this pump. Since my goal is to breastfeed for at least a year, I will need a dependable, efficient (read: FAST) breast pump for pumping at work. In the hospital, the LC taught me how to set-up and use the pump. I don't remember when I first decided to use the pump, but I knew I wamted a healthy supply in our freezer before I went back to work. Pumping in addition to nursing has tricked my body into producing more milk than Liam needs on a daily basis (technically it's over production. Eventually, and I'm totally dreading the discomfort of this, I'll have to back-off the pumping in addition to nursing). We have a TON of milk in the freezer. By a ton, I mean 300+ ounces. Probably way more than we'll ever need, but it feels so good to have the back-up. If my supply suddenly dries up for whatever reason, we're covered for a few weeks (we're planning to buy a deep freeze this week which will allow the milk to last longer). And did you know that you can donate breast milk? Thank you 19 Kids and Counting for that tid bit. The only down side to pumping is that my boobs fill-up and get uncomfortable at night when Liam goes longer periods into between sessions. Which causes my let down to be STRONG. Like, strong strong. Like, sorry Buddy that was my bad, strong.
Speaking of let downs... that's my only complaint about breastfeeding. I hate the feeling. HATE it. It's especially strong when I'm full. My mom describes it as a warm tingling, but I describe it more like a warm burning. It doesn't hurt. That's the wrong word. It's mildly uncomfortable. Annoying.
Even though I'm breastfeeding, it is also important that we acclimate Liam to the bottle. A friend told me about the Breastflow bottle. Instead of telling you all about it, I'll let you read for yourself if you're interested. We introduced the bottle at three weeks. Not too early, not too late. Although he had a confused look on his face since Daddy was feeding him, he took to it quickly. I've learned the hard way tha\t feeding him with a bottle doesn't work for me. He just looks at me like, "Um, you have something WAY better to offer. I REFUSE!" These days we do anywhere from one to three bottles a day, depending on how much time we spend out of the house. I am yet to nurse in public. Makes me nervous! I'm sure it will happen eventually. We need a decent nursing cover first. I pumped in the car on the way home from Carter Mountain last weekend, and I used a blanket. Not easy.
 |
| Notice the furrowed eyebrows. |
Birth Story: Part IV
When Awesome Nurse Pam arrived for the day shift, so did Dr. Extraordinaire Shaban. I've expressed my love for my doctor before, but I love him even more after L&D Day. At 7 am he walked in with a venti coffee and a smile that could make any girl weak in the knees. He gave me a big hug and told me to hurry up because he's been looking forward to this for a week.
First thing Dr. Extraordinaire Shaban did was check my progress. 5 cm. Woop, half way there! He chit chatted for a few minutes, and then scurried away (to watch my monitor from the nurses station as I would later find out). All the while, Awesome Nurse Pam is coming in and out, checking on me, the monitors, my fluids, my pain level, etc. On a side note: IV fluids suck. As if I wasn't swollen enough from pregnancy, add three or four bags of IV fluid to the mix. I was a WHALE. It took over a week for me to see my ankles again.
Shortly after Dr. Extraordinaire Shaban leaves, Awesome Nurse Pam comes in to discuss an epidural. She asks if I'm ready for it (I'm 6 cm at this point), and I decline. The pain is manageable, and I'm not ready to be confined to the bed. I suggest that she come back in an hour and ask again. Hopefully I would by 7 cm and, and ready for the epi. At this point she informs me that the anesthesiologist is about to go into surgery so it's now or never. By the time he would get out of surgery, I would probably be in transition and it would be too late.
It was a no-brainer to accept the epidural at that point. The thought of transition and pushing without an epidural terrified me. So enter Caterpillar Eyebrows Anesthesiologist (I don't know his real name). When I was pregnant, I thought I would be nervous about the pain involved with an epidural. When you're experiencing contractions every 30 to 90 seconds, the last thing you care about is the pain of getting an epidural. You welcome it to ease the other pain. I sat indian-style in the middle of the bed and leaned against Husband. I couldn't get my back into the correct position, so Caterpillar Eyebrows Anesthesiologist had to try THREE times. That's six needle sticks - three local and three epi tries. To be honest, I don't even remember the pain involved, so it must not have been too bad. Just some burning. Blood makes Husband queasy, so when he saw blood on the anesthesiologist's gloves, it was either sit down or hurl. I remember him starting to lean oddly, and I said something to Awesome Nurse Pam about Husband needing to sit down. So I spent the third and final epi try leaning against ANP.
With the epidural in, Awesome Nurse Pam got me re-situated in bed. Within 15 minutes, I couldn't feel or move anything below my chest. You get a heavy dose in the beginning, but thankfully that wears off. After an hour or so, I could move my legs on my own. Before that, if my legs slid off the pillow ANP had wedged between my legs, I had to ask Husband to move it back. And let me tell you - a limp leg is WAY heavier than you'd think. Personally, I hated the epidural sensation (more on that in a different post). However, I was pain free so that was nice.
At 9:15 am, Dr. Extraordinaire Shaban broke my water. Since I was epiduraled, I didn't feel anything associated with my water being broken. Not even a gush or wetness on the puppy pads I was laying on. I am hoping that with the second one I get to experience my water breaking on its own. Or at least get to feel it when the Doc does it.
Between my water breaking and pushing (heck, even pushing is a little blurry) everything is a blur. Roughly three hours passed in what seemed like seconds. At 10:00 am, I was 8 cm, but could be stretched to 9 cm. At 10:40 am, I was 9 cm. And then I got stuck at 9 cm for over an hour. Twice Awesome Nurse Pam tried to push the remaining lip of my cervix back. If I hadn't been numb, I bet that would have HURT. She was successful the second time. At 8 cm, I started to feel pressure in my pelvis. At first I thought I was feeling pain, so I clicked the epidural button a few times for an extra dose. Within 15 minutes, I was SUPER numb again and really annoyed with myself. Once I realized I was feeling pressure, I made Husband take the button away from me because I WANTED to feel the pressure. I knew the pressure would make me want to push more and harder when the time came. The pressure didn't hurt, but it was definitely uncomfortable. It also didn't make me feel an urgency to push like I had hoped it would.
What I DO remember over the three hours is Dr. Extraordinaire Shaban coming in and out of my room checking on my progress. He wanted to check my cervix every 30 minutes, ANP kept quipping at him to be patient. Him and Awesome Nurse Pam (who had obviously worked together a lot before) kept bickering back and forth. It was seriously entertaining. Every time Liam's heart rate dropped, ANP keep saying he was "trying to show off for us again." I think that was her way of trying to not alarm me. But it was pretty obvious from the unspoken words exchanged between ANP and DES that the situation could turn bad quickly.
Also, my mom came to the hospital to hang out in the room around 10 am. I talked to her on the phone, and I was obvious that she wanted so badly to be there. She didn't want to impose, but I could tell that she NEEDED to be with her daughter. And to be honest, it was so nice having her there. We chit chatted on and off, she talked with DES (he's a family friend), and knitted nervously. Husband and I actually invited her to stay for pushing, but she respectfully declined. She said that Liam's actual birth needed to be a moment between just Husband and me. In hindsight, that was an incredibly unselfish move. I KNOW she would have loved to experience that with us, but she knew how important that moment would be.
When it was time to push, it was clear that DES wanted Liam out NOW. I didn't realize until my head was clear just how close he was to being a c-section baby. At 11:58 pm, the bed was set-up to start pushing and ANP started prepped the room for Liam's arrival.
First thing Dr. Extraordinaire Shaban did was check my progress. 5 cm. Woop, half way there! He chit chatted for a few minutes, and then scurried away (to watch my monitor from the nurses station as I would later find out). All the while, Awesome Nurse Pam is coming in and out, checking on me, the monitors, my fluids, my pain level, etc. On a side note: IV fluids suck. As if I wasn't swollen enough from pregnancy, add three or four bags of IV fluid to the mix. I was a WHALE. It took over a week for me to see my ankles again.
Shortly after Dr. Extraordinaire Shaban leaves, Awesome Nurse Pam comes in to discuss an epidural. She asks if I'm ready for it (I'm 6 cm at this point), and I decline. The pain is manageable, and I'm not ready to be confined to the bed. I suggest that she come back in an hour and ask again. Hopefully I would by 7 cm and, and ready for the epi. At this point she informs me that the anesthesiologist is about to go into surgery so it's now or never. By the time he would get out of surgery, I would probably be in transition and it would be too late.
It was a no-brainer to accept the epidural at that point. The thought of transition and pushing without an epidural terrified me. So enter Caterpillar Eyebrows Anesthesiologist (I don't know his real name). When I was pregnant, I thought I would be nervous about the pain involved with an epidural. When you're experiencing contractions every 30 to 90 seconds, the last thing you care about is the pain of getting an epidural. You welcome it to ease the other pain. I sat indian-style in the middle of the bed and leaned against Husband. I couldn't get my back into the correct position, so Caterpillar Eyebrows Anesthesiologist had to try THREE times. That's six needle sticks - three local and three epi tries. To be honest, I don't even remember the pain involved, so it must not have been too bad. Just some burning. Blood makes Husband queasy, so when he saw blood on the anesthesiologist's gloves, it was either sit down or hurl. I remember him starting to lean oddly, and I said something to Awesome Nurse Pam about Husband needing to sit down. So I spent the third and final epi try leaning against ANP.
With the epidural in, Awesome Nurse Pam got me re-situated in bed. Within 15 minutes, I couldn't feel or move anything below my chest. You get a heavy dose in the beginning, but thankfully that wears off. After an hour or so, I could move my legs on my own. Before that, if my legs slid off the pillow ANP had wedged between my legs, I had to ask Husband to move it back. And let me tell you - a limp leg is WAY heavier than you'd think. Personally, I hated the epidural sensation (more on that in a different post). However, I was pain free so that was nice.
At 9:15 am, Dr. Extraordinaire Shaban broke my water. Since I was epiduraled, I didn't feel anything associated with my water being broken. Not even a gush or wetness on the puppy pads I was laying on. I am hoping that with the second one I get to experience my water breaking on its own. Or at least get to feel it when the Doc does it.
Between my water breaking and pushing (heck, even pushing is a little blurry) everything is a blur. Roughly three hours passed in what seemed like seconds. At 10:00 am, I was 8 cm, but could be stretched to 9 cm. At 10:40 am, I was 9 cm. And then I got stuck at 9 cm for over an hour. Twice Awesome Nurse Pam tried to push the remaining lip of my cervix back. If I hadn't been numb, I bet that would have HURT. She was successful the second time. At 8 cm, I started to feel pressure in my pelvis. At first I thought I was feeling pain, so I clicked the epidural button a few times for an extra dose. Within 15 minutes, I was SUPER numb again and really annoyed with myself. Once I realized I was feeling pressure, I made Husband take the button away from me because I WANTED to feel the pressure. I knew the pressure would make me want to push more and harder when the time came. The pressure didn't hurt, but it was definitely uncomfortable. It also didn't make me feel an urgency to push like I had hoped it would.
What I DO remember over the three hours is Dr. Extraordinaire Shaban coming in and out of my room checking on my progress. He wanted to check my cervix every 30 minutes, ANP kept quipping at him to be patient. Him and Awesome Nurse Pam (who had obviously worked together a lot before) kept bickering back and forth. It was seriously entertaining. Every time Liam's heart rate dropped, ANP keep saying he was "trying to show off for us again." I think that was her way of trying to not alarm me. But it was pretty obvious from the unspoken words exchanged between ANP and DES that the situation could turn bad quickly.
Also, my mom came to the hospital to hang out in the room around 10 am. I talked to her on the phone, and I was obvious that she wanted so badly to be there. She didn't want to impose, but I could tell that she NEEDED to be with her daughter. And to be honest, it was so nice having her there. We chit chatted on and off, she talked with DES (he's a family friend), and knitted nervously. Husband and I actually invited her to stay for pushing, but she respectfully declined. She said that Liam's actual birth needed to be a moment between just Husband and me. In hindsight, that was an incredibly unselfish move. I KNOW she would have loved to experience that with us, but she knew how important that moment would be.
When it was time to push, it was clear that DES wanted Liam out NOW. I didn't realize until my head was clear just how close he was to being a c-section baby. At 11:58 pm, the bed was set-up to start pushing and ANP started prepped the room for Liam's arrival.
P.S. Sorry about the five parts. There's just too many details, and Part IV would have been way too long.
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