So Friday morning rolls around. It's time for my four week check up at the OB. Helen and I are headed out of the house together, just the two of us, for the first time. We'd driven places already, but only with Daddy at the wheel. Suffice it to say, Momma was a little nervous.
But we made it! Out of the apartment, in to the car seat, to the office, out of the car, in to the stroller, in the waiting room, in to the appointment room . . . all without even waking from our morning nap. Doctor comes in, we chat for a bit, and just before getting to the exam portion of the program, we burst in to tears because we peed our pants (did I mention Helen hates to have a wet diaper?).
Luckily my doctor's sweet nurse came in and held crazy pants while we he finished up.
After changing Helen's diaper I got her back in the car and made it over to work without any incident. Then we swiftly turned our paperwork in to the HR office, visited with friends who wanted to meet Helen, and proceeded to get all strapped in to the car and head home.
And then.
Key.
Ignition.
Turn.
Nothing . . . the car wouldn't start.
I was able to get jumped after calling J and the security office at work. I just thank my lucky stars I was at my office with plenty of helpful, nice people who know me to assist. There I was with a four-week-old baby and car that wouldn't start. Replacing the battery is another story . . . as is the hole in the muffler of our other car we discovered that night. When it rains, it pours, right?
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
You'll Miss This When They're Bigger . . . Um, No, No I won't.
Everyone and their mother (and my mother) has said some reiteration of "you'll miss the newborn stage!"
Um, no. No, I definitely won't. I didn't like roommates in college who think midnight to three a.m. is the perfect time to be awake. I certainly won't miss a ravenous little baby who thinks 3 a.m. is playtime. I don't care if she's awake to eat at night or because her diaper is dirty, but just wanting to be awake? Eeeeek.
Being awake during those hours has given me new perspective on kids and family. I might max out after two of these little buggers . . . as cute as they are. I am sure my struggles are small compared to some (every new mother has her battle), but man if this doesn't change my whole "wanting a big family" shtick.
Um, no. No, I definitely won't. I didn't like roommates in college who think midnight to three a.m. is the perfect time to be awake. I certainly won't miss a ravenous little baby who thinks 3 a.m. is playtime. I don't care if she's awake to eat at night or because her diaper is dirty, but just wanting to be awake? Eeeeek.
Being awake during those hours has given me new perspective on kids and family. I might max out after two of these little buggers . . . as cute as they are. I am sure my struggles are small compared to some (every new mother has her battle), but man if this doesn't change my whole "wanting a big family" shtick.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
I Think My Baby is Nocturnal
I swear, my child is as nocturnal as a bat. Nighttime means very little to Helen and I can't figure out how to get her her sleeping at night.
As I write this she is sleeping soundly, and has been for the past hour and a half. This morning she slept from 9:30 to noon (as did I). She has sort of developed a pattern, as she's slept during those hours for the past five days . . . but boy I wish I could get her to sleep like that at night.
I think it's a matter of me outlasting her. Last night was better in that I was able to make it back in to my bed for an hour and a half, instead of just passing out on the couch with her in my arms. Here's hoping tonight is even better and I make it to my bed more than once. Because shoot, she'll never get a sibling if I can't even sleep in the same bed as my husband.
As I write this she is sleeping soundly, and has been for the past hour and a half. This morning she slept from 9:30 to noon (as did I). She has sort of developed a pattern, as she's slept during those hours for the past five days . . . but boy I wish I could get her to sleep like that at night.
I think it's a matter of me outlasting her. Last night was better in that I was able to make it back in to my bed for an hour and a half, instead of just passing out on the couch with her in my arms. Here's hoping tonight is even better and I make it to my bed more than once. Because shoot, she'll never get a sibling if I can't even sleep in the same bed as my husband.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
"Required" Reading for New Moms
Below is a list of books I have found wonderfully helpful during the past three weeks of motherhood. I'm sure you will too.*
- Breastfeeding for Beginners: How I Got Mom-Ass in Under Three Weeks
- How to Piss Off Your Child in Ten Seconds or Less, a Memoir on Trying to Poop in Peace
- Three-Week-Old Baby Skills: Pooping, Sneezing, & Spitting Down Your Shirt
- The Ten Second Diaper Change Debunked
- Walking Off the Baby Weight, Even When It's 100 Degrees
- It's All Relative: Designing a Schedule that Works for You and Your Baby
- How to Get Baby to Sleep Through the Night, or, How to Never Sleep in Your Own Bed Again
- Friend or Foe: Baby Gadgets Examined
- Missing Your OB: How to Accept the Non-Break-Up-Break-Up
- Combating Stretch Marks, An Ode to Cocoa Butter
*none of these are actual books.
- Breastfeeding for Beginners: How I Got Mom-Ass in Under Three Weeks
- How to Piss Off Your Child in Ten Seconds or Less, a Memoir on Trying to Poop in Peace
- Three-Week-Old Baby Skills: Pooping, Sneezing, & Spitting Down Your Shirt
- The Ten Second Diaper Change Debunked
- Walking Off the Baby Weight, Even When It's 100 Degrees
- It's All Relative: Designing a Schedule that Works for You and Your Baby
- How to Get Baby to Sleep Through the Night, or, How to Never Sleep in Your Own Bed Again
- Friend or Foe: Baby Gadgets Examined
- Missing Your OB: How to Accept the Non-Break-Up-Break-Up
- Combating Stretch Marks, An Ode to Cocoa Butter
*none of these are actual books.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
First Thoughts
These are some of my first thoughts from early motherhood when I was bleary eyed and exhausted at 3 a.m.
When it's 3 o'clock in the morning and you've been a mother for all of four days, it's hard not to start thinking. As I sat there, tired, bleary-eyed, and achy, I thought to myself "wow, my mother really loved me."
I'm sure every new mom comes to this realization at some point, but boy did it hit me there other night. Especially when I think about the fact that my sister was only one year old when I was born. How my parents managed two children, while my Dad was working 12 hours night shifts as a rookie cop I can't imagine. On the one hand, it reassures me that we (J and I) will be alright. No matter how hard we think this whole newborn thing might be, it could always be harder. Sure, Helen might be screaming her head off at 3 o'clock in the morning because she hates diaper changes, but she is healthy, eating well, and developmentally right where she is supposed to be.
When it's 3 o'clock in the morning and you've been a mother for all of four days, it's hard not to start thinking. As I sat there, tired, bleary-eyed, and achy, I thought to myself "wow, my mother really loved me."
I'm sure every new mom comes to this realization at some point, but boy did it hit me there other night. Especially when I think about the fact that my sister was only one year old when I was born. How my parents managed two children, while my Dad was working 12 hours night shifts as a rookie cop I can't imagine. On the one hand, it reassures me that we (J and I) will be alright. No matter how hard we think this whole newborn thing might be, it could always be harder. Sure, Helen might be screaming her head off at 3 o'clock in the morning because she hates diaper changes, but she is healthy, eating well, and developmentally right where she is supposed to be.
Monday, August 18, 2014
An Epidural-less Childbirth
Soon after discovering I was pregnant I began to think about labor. I've never thought of myself as someone with a high pain tolerance and I was a little worried.
Like most women I planned to get an epidural.
Spoiler alert: I didn't. And here is why.
You see, as my pregnancy progressed I grew increasingly worried about being induced and less worried about the actual labor bit. My sister had recently given birth to my nephew after being induced, my cousin was induced with her baby, a close friend of mine was induced . . . pretty much everyone was induced. And all of them received epidurals. And everyone had painful labors (yes, all labor is painful, I know that).
Being induced seemed pretty terrible. From all the aforementioned women had told me, the contractions were super close together and wicked painful. When we took the birthing class at our hospital the instructor told us that 85% of women who came through the hospital received one an epidural. The videos made it seem like only hippies and crazy people skipped the pain meds. The instructor highly recommended having a "birth plan" if we wanted to try without drugs. From my perspective, epidural women still came out the other end with a beautiful baby. The women who went without didn't receive a star on the mom-walk-of-fame. Skipping pain meds didn't guarantee you a happier, healthier baby and I left class thinking I'd be part of that 85%.
Before the birthing class I had thought maybe I'd only get one if I was induced. But since I wasn't interested in making a birth plan (the idea of making a plan for something with so many unknown variables seemed pretty damn stupid to me) and everyone else was doing it, I threw my hands up and said sure thing.
Flash forward to 1 a.m. on a Friday morning (three days before my August 4th due date). I wake up to pee. I get back in bed. Twenty minutes later I swear I peed my pants. So I use the bathroom, change my underwear and hop back in to bed. After all my worrying and anxiety about induction it it took a while to dawn on me that my water probably broke. It didn't matter to me that my doctor had checked my cervix that day and I was dilated 3 centimeters. My sister was dilated at 3 cm for weeks before still needing induced. Genes are everything, right?
Walking to the bathroom for the third time to change my underwear, a distinct fluid trickles down my leg. I hop in to the shower and stand there, nervously laughing with my now awake husband. We called labor and delivery and by 3 a.m. we were checked in to triage where they confirm I am indeed leaking amniotic fluid. This step seemed pretty unnecessary to me . . . I'd lost a hell of a lot of fluid by the time I'd stepped out of the shower to leave for the hospital.
Once we were moved from triage to a labor and delivery suite my contractions started without much fuss. Don't get me wrong, they hurt like the dickens, but not nearly as badly as I'd anticipated. As someone with no soft spot in my heart for needles or hospitals in general, I was surprised by my own ease at the whole experience. J would say I'm downplaying my own strength, but the contractions weren't as difficult as I thought they would be. I don't really know how else to put it. The pattern was pretty irregular and our labor and delivery nurse (who deserves her own post of praise) was continually pleased with my progress and ability to tolerate pain. Sure, J and I didn't come in with a "birth plan" to deal with pain, but we'd always worked really well together. J was constantly at my side helping me breathe and focus on something else. We walked the halls together, tried various positions, and put heat on my back.
Eventually we talked to the anesthesiologist on call. She was shocked to learn I was almost 7 cm dilated and was not only standing and talking to her, but had yet to have any pain meds. When she explained the epidural process to us, she also told us that receiving one is a very American thing to do. Worldwide the rates for receiving one are much lower than here. Though she didn't tell us anything surprising, we weren't convinced an epidural was necessary.
Maybe it was the way J was looking at me, maybe it was a result of sudden inner mom strength, or maybe it was the fact that I was impressing the staff, but whatever it was I knew an epidural wasn't for me.
Please don't take this to mean I've become a naturalistic hippie who hates modern medicine. The next time I have a baby could be totally different and I might be in excruciating pain. But for little baby Helen, I simply didn't need it. Did I cry for my mom during the two hours of pushing? Did I pray and wish for it to be over? Of course. But I made it through and now I'm oddly proud of myself. Or, rather, I'm proud of us. Because I'm sure I couldn't have done it alone.
Like most women I planned to get an epidural.
Spoiler alert: I didn't. And here is why.
You see, as my pregnancy progressed I grew increasingly worried about being induced and less worried about the actual labor bit. My sister had recently given birth to my nephew after being induced, my cousin was induced with her baby, a close friend of mine was induced . . . pretty much everyone was induced. And all of them received epidurals. And everyone had painful labors (yes, all labor is painful, I know that).
Being induced seemed pretty terrible. From all the aforementioned women had told me, the contractions were super close together and wicked painful. When we took the birthing class at our hospital the instructor told us that 85% of women who came through the hospital received one an epidural. The videos made it seem like only hippies and crazy people skipped the pain meds. The instructor highly recommended having a "birth plan" if we wanted to try without drugs. From my perspective, epidural women still came out the other end with a beautiful baby. The women who went without didn't receive a star on the mom-walk-of-fame. Skipping pain meds didn't guarantee you a happier, healthier baby and I left class thinking I'd be part of that 85%.
Before the birthing class I had thought maybe I'd only get one if I was induced. But since I wasn't interested in making a birth plan (the idea of making a plan for something with so many unknown variables seemed pretty damn stupid to me) and everyone else was doing it, I threw my hands up and said sure thing.
Flash forward to 1 a.m. on a Friday morning (three days before my August 4th due date). I wake up to pee. I get back in bed. Twenty minutes later I swear I peed my pants. So I use the bathroom, change my underwear and hop back in to bed. After all my worrying and anxiety about induction it it took a while to dawn on me that my water probably broke. It didn't matter to me that my doctor had checked my cervix that day and I was dilated 3 centimeters. My sister was dilated at 3 cm for weeks before still needing induced. Genes are everything, right?
Walking to the bathroom for the third time to change my underwear, a distinct fluid trickles down my leg. I hop in to the shower and stand there, nervously laughing with my now awake husband. We called labor and delivery and by 3 a.m. we were checked in to triage where they confirm I am indeed leaking amniotic fluid. This step seemed pretty unnecessary to me . . . I'd lost a hell of a lot of fluid by the time I'd stepped out of the shower to leave for the hospital.
Once we were moved from triage to a labor and delivery suite my contractions started without much fuss. Don't get me wrong, they hurt like the dickens, but not nearly as badly as I'd anticipated. As someone with no soft spot in my heart for needles or hospitals in general, I was surprised by my own ease at the whole experience. J would say I'm downplaying my own strength, but the contractions weren't as difficult as I thought they would be. I don't really know how else to put it. The pattern was pretty irregular and our labor and delivery nurse (who deserves her own post of praise) was continually pleased with my progress and ability to tolerate pain. Sure, J and I didn't come in with a "birth plan" to deal with pain, but we'd always worked really well together. J was constantly at my side helping me breathe and focus on something else. We walked the halls together, tried various positions, and put heat on my back.
Eventually we talked to the anesthesiologist on call. She was shocked to learn I was almost 7 cm dilated and was not only standing and talking to her, but had yet to have any pain meds. When she explained the epidural process to us, she also told us that receiving one is a very American thing to do. Worldwide the rates for receiving one are much lower than here. Though she didn't tell us anything surprising, we weren't convinced an epidural was necessary.
Maybe it was the way J was looking at me, maybe it was a result of sudden inner mom strength, or maybe it was the fact that I was impressing the staff, but whatever it was I knew an epidural wasn't for me.
Please don't take this to mean I've become a naturalistic hippie who hates modern medicine. The next time I have a baby could be totally different and I might be in excruciating pain. But for little baby Helen, I simply didn't need it. Did I cry for my mom during the two hours of pushing? Did I pray and wish for it to be over? Of course. But I made it through and now I'm oddly proud of myself. Or, rather, I'm proud of us. Because I'm sure I couldn't have done it alone.
More Thoughts from 3 a.m.
I can't decide who cried more last night, me or the baby.
Labor was a breeze compared to crying uncontrollably while your child eats and eats and eats and eats at 3 o'clock in the morning.
At least I can rest (ha, what a joke) assured she's gaining weight and healthy.
Labor was a breeze compared to crying uncontrollably while your child eats and eats and eats and eats at 3 o'clock in the morning.
At least I can rest (ha, what a joke) assured she's gaining weight and healthy.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Things 3 A.M. Has Taught Me (thus far)
While nursing my 4 day old daughter at 3 o'clock I was struck by the urge to e-mail my best friend. Sure, she knew little Helen had arrived, but the details were left for another time.
So I thought about all the things 3 a.m. was teaching me and sent her this short list:
- You are never as tired as you think you are. Dante might have outlined ten circles of hell, but there are infinite levels of tired.
- Helen hates wet diapers. Not poopy diapers. Wet diapers.
- Breast milk burps are smelly. Who knew? Having never considered my daughter would have bad breath, given that she's certainly not eating garlic and onions regularly, her rancid milk breath took me by surprise.
- I've always heard women say the pains of labor are easily forgotten, and while I partially agree, the after labor pains are not. I'd rather take 14 hours of labor and be done than over a week of intense cramping and backaches from nursing. (I say this as a woman who had a very, very smooth birthing experience).
- Helen is cute as a bug, even when she's projectile pooping on the wall.
So I thought about all the things 3 a.m. was teaching me and sent her this short list:
- You are never as tired as you think you are. Dante might have outlined ten circles of hell, but there are infinite levels of tired.
- Helen hates wet diapers. Not poopy diapers. Wet diapers.
- Breast milk burps are smelly. Who knew? Having never considered my daughter would have bad breath, given that she's certainly not eating garlic and onions regularly, her rancid milk breath took me by surprise.
- I've always heard women say the pains of labor are easily forgotten, and while I partially agree, the after labor pains are not. I'd rather take 14 hours of labor and be done than over a week of intense cramping and backaches from nursing. (I say this as a woman who had a very, very smooth birthing experience).
- Helen is cute as a bug, even when she's projectile pooping on the wall.
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