Monday, June 25, 2012

(Manual) Labor

Tomorrow is The Boy's birthday! Happy Birthday, little Nugget! Over the past week I've been reflecting on  everything that has changed in the last year. This time last year I still didn't know when The Boy would arrive. Here's his birth story (if you're looking for a funny post, you may be disappointed. See this one for L&D humor. If you're looking for blood and guts, read on).

At 38 weeks I began having contractions every five minutes. We went to the hospital but it turned out to be prodromal labor.  That means the contractions are very real but there is no progression. It's preparing your hard working lady business for labor. For the next two weeks I would have consistent contractions for hours at a time. The Husband was continually on stand by. Some contractions were mild, others were stronger. All were irritating, because they didn't seem to be doing anything. I was still working but all my clients knew they may get cancellation calls at any time.

False Alarm, 38 weeks
At 39 and a half weeks my midwife was concerned about my blood pressure rising. I was so swollen I had hobbit's feet, and even my huge pregnancy CZ diamond ring didn't fit anymore. She began talking about inducing on my due date. I did not want to induce. I protested. I knew inducing reduced the likelihood of a natural childbirth. I knew all the emotional and physical benefits to baby and mama for natural childbirths. I knew the recovery time was shorter and the chances of postpartum depression were lower. More than any of that, I knew if I had an epidural or a C-section I would be trapped in the bed unable to move. This was not about me being a feminist hippie minimalist (although I've been called worse). This was not about me sticking it to the man. The thought of confinement was worse than the thought of pushing a human through my business. I can't even sit still for a half hour car ride. I wanted to be in control. I fought her. I pouted. I'm pretty sure I stuck my lip out. Even though I did not want to induce, I knew I would if that's what she advised. I agreed to induce on my due date IF I didn't go into labor on my own before then. I was determined to make it happen.

This was a full month before my due date. I was the size of a VW beetle.


Over the weekend I walked. I ate eggplant. I ate spicy food. I ate pineapple. I bounced on an exercise ball. I took hot baths. I participated in *ahem* physical activity. I cleaned baseboards. I used evening primrose oil. I had The Husband massage pressure points on my feet. I continued to have regular contractions but no progression. I asked my midwife how I would know when I was actually in labor. Her reply: "You'll know." I pouted.
Sunday night I was awake most of the night with contractions. Just like always, they weren't getting any closer together, and they would stop for short periods of time. I finally fell asleep early Sunday morning and woke around 9:30. I'd slept too late to make it to church at 9:45. I started to cry.
 Me (pouting) : I'm so tired of these stupid contractions. They aren't even doing anything. I don't think I'm ever going to go into labor.
Husband: She said they're getting your body ready for labor.
Me (angry) : My body IS ready!!
Husband: What do you want to do? Want to go for a walk?
Me (pouting again): It's too hot.
Husband: Want to go to lunch at my grandmother's?
Me: I'm too big.
Husband: You could eat cornbread (Smart man)
Me: I'll have heart burn.
Husband: Well what do you want to do?
Me: I want to go to the mall and walk around in the air conditioning.
Husband: Okay, go get ready and we'll go.

At 10:15 I walked into our bathroom to get ready. I was reaching up to get something when my water broke. And broke. And broke. And broke. Like the way water breaks in a movie. I was thrilled! There was no doubt the process had begun. It was two days before his due date.
"Honey?" I called, very calmly.
"Yeah?"
"Come here."
"What is it?"
"My water just broke."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
"Open the door." (He slowly opened the door)
"HOLY...."
There was a huge puddle on the floor. HUGE. The floodgates had opened. And it kept going. For 15 minutes I continued to trickle.THANK GOD THAT I DIDN'T MAKE IT TO CHURCH. This would've happened in the middle of worship. My church loves babies but I'm not sure they want a reverse baptism during the first verse of Amazing Grace.

We knew from our birthing class that we had plenty of time to get to the hospital. Our plan had been to labor at home as long as possible, also increasing the likelihood of a natural birth. I was fascinated with what I knew was going on inside my body and I pulled out our information from class to follow along. I was exceptionally calm. We were on the phone with my midwife Meredith throughout the day, updating her of my progress. We made one mistake here: we called our family to tell them my water broke and to be on stand by. They were like horses waiting to get out of the gate; I think my dad even stomped his foot.

About an hour after my water broke the contractions began, right on cue. They were mild at first and I was able to go about cleaning the house, washing the sheets, and generally staying busy. The Husband loaded our bags in the car and settled in for the long haul. We walked. He began timing the contractions. Fifteen minutes apart. Eight minutes. Twelve. Seven. Fourteen. Nine. Contractions had been consistent for TWO WEEKS and then when I was actually in labor they weren't? Aggravating. I walked to try to help the contractions pick up the pace. I picked up sticks in the yard. I bounced on the ball. I got in and out of the tub a half dozen times. The Husband rubbed my back and reminded me to breathe through the pain. We had some lunch. For eight hours we labored at home. Still I was calm.

I'd asked Meredith how I would know when to go to the hospital. "You'll know" she said. "No, I won't. I've been having contractions for weeks. I could just accidentally have this baby at home." She laughed. "Leigh Ellen, when you lose your sense of humor that's when you should go." She was right. Around five thirty I told The Husband it was time to go. I called Meredith and let her know. We called the family and gave them the go ahead. The husband was on the phone saying "Mother, do NOT beat us to the hospital!" Apparently she just needed to come to town and just happened to be at the TJMaxx right beside the hospital. My contractions were ranging from 3 to 8 minutes apart.
Meredith and Rhonda, the midwife student, were both there when we arrived. They checked me and I was dilated to a 4. Oooh, it was going to be a long night. "Hours or minutes?" I asked. "Hours" they said. Into the whirlpool tub I went.  Out of the tub, into the tub, out, in. "Someone's leaking!" I said at one point when I saw blood on the floor. That would be me. I hadn't expected the blood. The contractions were getting stronger and more painful. Intense. I forgot everything I'd ever learned in birthing class but The Husband reminded me to breathe. I asked him not to touch me and to turn that annoying music (that I'd downloaded just for labor) off. Hours or minutes? Hours.

I cannot describe being in labor because the pain is not like anything I've ever felt before. I have nothing to compare it to. LOTS of pressure. Contractions were like a huge gas bubble way down low that escalated and eased off in waves. I don't know how many times I said my butt was going to explode. It felt like there was a human pressing down on my insides. Oh wait, there was. There is absolutely no way that I could have endured this pain if it had been for a broken arm or something else. There is no way I could have endured this pain for 20 hours like some women. And yet, the adrenaline rush was greater than SCUBA diving, sky diving, or any coaster I've ever been on. My friend April says that giving birth is her favorite part of pregnancy, and for the first time I understood. It's no wonder that people use recreational drugs if they can feel this high regularly. It was amazing.

When  we'd been at the hospital about 2 hours things started getting more INTENSE. I wasn't sure if I could go through with this, and I wasn't getting a chance to rest in between the contractions. Hours or minutes? Hours. It was exhausting and exhilarating. I had some friends from prenatal yoga who all had babies right before me. Several of them had a shot during labor, and they all said it didn't help at all. It was at this moment that I decided that they'd all conspired against me and lied about the shot. I asked about it. This is my thought progression every time I try to remember the name of it: Lil Wayne? No. T Payne? No. NuBane. It doesn't help with the pain but it's supposed to help you not care as much about the pain. The yoga friends were right, it did nothing. I cussed it.

Around nine o'clock I was convinced my butt was actually going to explode in the bathtub. We'd been at the hospital for 4 hours. Meredith asked didn't I want to get out of the tub and try some different positions. "Fine!", I snarled. Rhonda checked me and I was dilated to a 10. They were amazed. That's a lot of progression in a short time. Rhonda told me I could begin pushing. Hours or minutes? "I would guess less than an hour" Meredith said. "That's minutes! Say minutes!" I demanded. Meredith said minutes.

For the next hour I pushed. I sent for my mom. She came in and asked how my blood pressure was. In hindsight that was a reasonable request, but I told her she couldn't stay if she didn't behave. "Medical. Professionals." I said through clenched teeth as I pointed to everyone else in the room. The Husband was kind and patient, if not terrified of what was happening.  Contractions were about a minute apart and there was no time for rest. I knew it was too late to request an epidural or a lobotomy, and things got real. I screamed. I pushed. I cussed. I was amazed that my body knew what to do. In fact, I couldn't have stopped it if I'd wanted to. Labor became involuntary. Meredith told me she could see his head.

At 10:31 The Boy was born. He was perfect. He cried a little "bleeeeet" goat cry for a greeting and I told him I'd been waiting and waiting to meet him. He had all his fingers and toes and nothing extra. Relief flooded me. The Husband beamed. My mom cried. He laid upon my chest and everything was right in the world. It had only been 12 hours since my water broke.   He laid there naked on me for a long time, bonding with me, my skin against his skin with a blanket tightly wrapped around us both. Time stopped. It was worth every second of labor, of pregnancy, of anything I would ever sacrifice for him.


Wow! Impressed/amazed/in shock


The Husband went to tell the throngs that The Boy was here. They had been impatiently waiting all day, after all.


The next hours were a blur. I'd torn a little during labor, so that was taken care of. He was weighed, cleaned and measured. Our nurse put his footprints on The Husband's scrubs. I got to go to the bathroom and wash up. The family came in and oohed and ahhed over him before he and his dad went to the nursery to meet his very new friends. I was exhausted, and I was energized. Even though it was midnight I wouldn't sleep for hours. He was here, and my life was changed forever. And I will forever be amazed by that day.

A year later he's still irritated by us. I can't imagine this will change.



Monday, June 18, 2012

The Boy's Birthday!

I know my weaknesses. I have no patience for measuring before I hang a picture. My fear of salmonella leads me to overcook chicken. I talk too much. I'm impulsive, impatient, and at times irrational. I'm a bossy know-it-all. But...... I can throw one helluva party! Sure, this is a useless skill in the grand scheme of things. It will not come in handy during the apocalypse, it's an impractical skill to list on a job resume, and it's generally a frivolous waste of time. But it sure is fun! There are two primary pluses of this being one of my strengths: 1) It's fun, and who doesn't like fun? 2) I can do it on a dime.

We had The Boy's first birthday party this weekend even though he won't be one until next week. His room is farm themed (see this post for more) so we carried the theme over to utilize all his farm stuff for decoration. We had friends over for a back-yard-barn- yard party on a beautiful day. I may have a tiny tendency to go a bit overboard. "I never understood why people would go all out for a first birthday party" I told The Husband, as I confirmed the time for the goat to be delivered.  Here are some photos, courtesy of my friend Kati, except for the really bad ones, which I took.

The invitations were just card stock and twine, no envelopes: $9 total.


Our menu included gold fish, farm animal cupcakes, haystacks, chicken feed (Chex mix), fence posts (pretzel rods), dirt and worms (Oreos, pudding, worms), chicken wings, robin's eggs (malted milk balls) and vegetable gardens (carrots and apples). 


                                    


I made the cupcakes and smash cake myself, which cost probably around $15 total. All the decorations here came out of his room or from our back yard. I printed pictures of him at his great grandmother's farm for $6 and put them on our old shutters. 

 Our party favors were metal buckets filled with edible nests and chewing gum eggs. Don't tell the kids, but the magical farm hen found all this on clearance right after Easter. Animal tattoos were $2 at Party City. The crate was an old corn crate someone was tossing out.


 His collection of boots. Do you think I have an obsession?



We decorated his swing set to look like a barn and added hay from the farm $0.
I bought six yards of gingham on sale for $9. I used gingham and leftover card stock and twine from the invitations to make his banner, and spread some more of the gingham (and my red snuggie) on top of the hay.

We pulled our kitchen table outside, along with church pews we already had, and more of the gingham fabric $0

The Husband made horses the kids could ride from hay bales, two old saddles, and some stick horses. $8



 We borrowed a goat for the afternoon, which the kids thought was really cool.  $0





                      We put the baby pool at the bottom of the slide for the big kids to enjoy. $0

 





And OF COURSE there was cake:










The barn made a great backdrop for some pictures. 





Don't we have the cutest friends? 




 Happy Birthday to The Boy!

































Friday, June 8, 2012

Anatomy of The Boy's Hair

The Boy's hair is wild. I mean really wild. I don't know what to do with it. I try to wet it and lay it down, but it's rebellious. The funniest thing to me is that it looks different all the time. This is not because he's growing and changing. It looks different throughout the day, and from day to day.  Here's some examples.

Sometimes it's all Hollywood bedhead:
 
(same outfit, same pose, too)



Sometimes it looks like a cross between a kewpie doll and a Who from Whoville, but not as creepy as either.




The top sticks straight up. Remember the Snorks?



or lays down to a widow's peak a la Eddie Munster:



Sometimes he looks like a young Ron Howard:
  


Unfortunately sometimes he also looks like an old Ron Howard:
    



Sometimes that top piece goes back like Rin Tin Tin's owner:




The sides stick out like Jim Carrey in Lemony Snickets:


 












If it's windy it all sticks up like a baby duck.












The top swirls like a hurricane weather map:

 Don't sneeze too hard or it might all blow off like a dandelion:
                     


Sometimes it sticks up and all goes to one side like a comb over rooster, or Rihanna.