Tuesday, September 28, 2010

poke

This is probably one of my favorite pictures, like ever.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

newborn fortitude


I'd like to file this morning away under days labeled "less than stellar"...

2 weeks this boy has been in our lives.  2 weeks of bliss mixed in with equal parts 2 weeks of no sleep, 2 weeks of 2 kids, 2 weeks of fighting with my stupid boobs, and whatever else my scrambled brain can't remember right now.  

The boobs are the primary offender.  I'm not one of those people who squirts milk across the room and has enough to feed a whole African village should they feel so inclined?  If you are, don't tell me because I'll hate you, on principle.  No, instead it has to be a fight, story of my nursing life.  So I find myself placating the 2 year old with cartoons all the live long day while I park it on the couch and try and coax the little one to wake up and put some effort into it.  

It's starting to mess with my head, I won't lie.  

Le sigh.  

The newborn stage isn't for the weak I tell you.  The fact that he smells nice and is pretty much one of the more tasty babies I've ever laid eyes on is hopefully enough to get me through. 

Thursday, September 16, 2010

it happened like this

When I sit down to write about how son #2 came out of my body and into this world I'm not quite sure how to go about it.  To lay out the basics would be easy, so here let me do that.   

I showed up at the hospital early Thursday morning on September 9th, the doctor broke my water at 8:45 am, and three hours later at precisely 11:54,  I had a baby.  

See?  Simple enough.  

Except the experience was so much more than that.  I made sure to write down exactly how it all went the next day in my journal so that I would remember.  Because it's true, you glaze over the hardest parts as soon as a few hours later.  A week later and it's already getting a bit rosy around the edges I suppose.  

But I remember the big stuff.  


I remember walking into the room to be greeted with writing on the whiteboard that said "welcome Kalli and Paul!  Goal: healthy baby boy!".   I remember how spacious the room was and how surreal it felt to get changed into my gown and to be doing this all over again.  We met our nurse, Kim, and I instantly knew we'd be in good hands.  We chatted for a while and she asked if I had considered having this baby naturally, sort of a weird question coming from a labor and delivery nurse.  We talked about it some more and I said I had, in fact, earlier in the pregnancy I'd attempted some hypnobabies training but hadn't found it to be particularly useful in my case.  I guess I don't have an easily suggestible mind, is what I'd said.  Kim said that if anyone was a good candidate for it, I was, seeing as how I'd been walking around for a week dilated to a 5 and 85% effaced.  Likely this was going to go quick.  "I bet you'll have a baby before noon", she said reassuringly.  

I don't exactly know what came over me, but just like that I was on board.  Alright, well if you say so then let's do this thing.  Seriously, don't ask me what happened because I have no idea.  Paul had left to go get some breakfast and I was signing consent forms for the epidural, and by the time he got back 30 minutes later my Dr. had already been there, my water was broken, and I was getting a good taste of what contractions had to offer me.  The look on his face when Kim explained the new plan was a good mix between what the crap, and you're insane, but he didn't say a word other then, "alright, I know you can do it".  So full steam ahead matey, we were off.

An hour in the shower later, I was having some serious second thoughts about this decision.  I got out to get checked because Kim was worried things were moving a bit fast, but no, only dilated to a 6 and a half.  At this news I wanted to run out and hang myself from the nearest doorway.  Instead I sat on a birthing ball and tried to redirect my energies at opening or whatever it is you do when you feel like your insides are being swirled and stabbed like spaghetti on a fork.  My pillow was soaked with sweat and Kim and Paul were rubbing my back in between contractions, making sure to leave me alone in the middle of them after I barked "don't touch me!" when one would start.  Mixed in there were some bouts of crying and saying "I can't do this, I can't make it" until Kim decided to check me again to get a gauge on where I was at.  Personally, she could have just asked and I would have said closer to the verge of death more than anything, but no, apparently I was quite alive and didn't know what pain was until she put her hands where they were not welcome.  That act alone about sent me through the roof and I started sobbing and begging for my mom.  Paul snorted at one point, I thought he was laughing at me and I begged him to stop, but he wasn't laughing he was crying too.  I'm sure we cut a pretty pathetic picture, both of us sobbing and praying for the sweet release of death.  Okay maybe that was just me but still, yikes.  That check yielded me at an 8, transition.  I feel like I need to insert a disclaimer here.  I was actually remarkably calm for the majority of this affair.  I just had my moments you know, moments where I was not so much in control.    

My doctor came in and checked me again 20 minutes later, again, that's just not something I really enjoyed.  Still an 8.  He said he'd stick close around in case things picked up but I still had a bit to go.  Awesome, exactly what I wanted to hear.  Kim suggested I flip around on my knees because sometimes that really helped and felt better.  So I managed to heave myself down and as soon as my knees hit the pad I knew that was a terrible mistake.  I suddenly found my body pushing and straining and who knows what was going on down there.  The worst sensations were ripping through me and Kim calmly got on her walkie-talkie thingy and called for Dr. Watts to turn around and come right back.  Somehow she and Paul got me situated and Dr. Watts came running in and was gowning up all at the same time.  Pretty sure my eyes were rolling back in my head and I yelped out and could not stop pushing.  There was a giant mirror above my bed so I watched as my skin yielded way and out came this head full of hair, then somehow a pair of broad shoulders, and then this body, and then it was over and he was here, 6 minutes before noon.    

Big and beautiful, and what in the world just happened? 

I will tell you how ridiculous and out of body the entire thing felt to me, and how you won't find me acting as an advocate for natural childbirth any time soon.  Those of you who are, go you.  Having done it both ways I'm pretty sure I'll exercise my right to an epidural for any future babies riding this train into the earth station.  For me the recovery was comparable to that of the Nub's birth, in fact it was probably rougher.  Things like my placenta not wanting to detach and a full day of hemorrhaging every time I moved certainly contributed to the experience.  Even though I didn't have an IV for the birth I had to be hooked up to one for over 24 hours after to help my uterus clamp back down, on top of medication they'd given me orally in 5 separate doses, as well as a shot in the thigh and another medication given in a place I don't feel so comfortable discussing.  It was unpleasant to say the least.    

I'm glad I did it, that I experienced such a thing, and I don't regret it one bit.  How could I? 

 Look at my boy, he's perfect.


I can't say enough about how great my nurse was, or how Paul was so incredible, or how my doctor was calm and collected, and no one blinked twice when I was writhing around like an electrocuted eel which in hindsight, was completely embarrassing.  I'm so thankful for modern medicine, good caregivers and good hospitals because they are not all created equal. 

Mostly, I'm just glad that it's over and that I came away from the whole experience for the better, with a brand new healthy son to mother, a family to go home to, a new appreciation for my body, and gratitude that I don't ever willingly have to give birth that way again if I don't want to.    

That's my kind of happy ending.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

I've said it before

and I'll say it again...

two kids is no joke


but when it's good, it's real good

Friday, September 10, 2010

9.9.10

a good Thursday morning

8 lbs 12 oz
20 in
perfect

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Friday, September 3, 2010

wrap it up



This morning was spent picking up the remnants of the night before, something I failed to do before bed time as we decided to beg a favor out of the grandparents and steal away for a movie.  So after we dropped him off and swung by Sonic, off we went with my purse stuffed full of burgers, onion rings and coke.  The movie was a Will Ferrell/Mark "hey donkey" Wahlberg collaboration and I had high hopes I tell you, high hopes that were squashed flat.  Aside from a few choice one liners it was easily forgettable.  In fact, I spent the majority of the time shifting positions uncomfortably and trying to figure out whether or not this baby was actually trying to claw his way out or if I just had gas.  

Contractions are lost on me.  I mean I know what they feel like, but Paul is dead convinced that I'll probably have this kid on the bathroom floor because I can't decide whether or not it's the real thing.  Yes, the Hub's real name is Paul.  I'm sick of calling him Hub so I guess he gets to be himself again.  Don't worry, I'll still crack short jokes.  That's what I do, it's who we are.   

Let me tell you about the best part of going to see a movie.  It's the end where we go to pick the kid back up and he runs to us arms wide open, and face lit up like he hasn't seen us in ten years.  I like that part.  It's my favorite.

I have a bunch of work to do but I can't seem to make myself attempt it in the lull of the afternoon.  Plus I've realized I do my best at night, late, when everyone else is asleep and there's nothing around to distract me.  Like cookie dough brownies, or Mockingjay.  Yeah, I finished it finally, and I liked it in the end.  Plus that pregnancy induced insomnia has finally started to set in so I'm up anyway, whether I want to be or not.  How I escaped it for so long this time around is beyond me, just lucky I guess.  

A 3 day weekend is ahead, sweet.  

On my docket: a trip to Kneaders for pumpkin bread and possibly a pedicure.  It's that time after all, any joiners?  

Thursday, September 2, 2010

some definitions

pet peeve: when you buy a bag of grapes and only a few of them are the firm and crisp ones you pinched to check for goodness and the rest of them are just soft,  I want my money back.

disheartening: when someone else's bank slip blows onto your lawn as trash and you pick it up and see their balance is much, MUCH higher than yours and immediately feel inferior as a result.

annoying: filling out insurance paperwork and trying to deduce the difference between plan options and deductibles and deciding which one is going to screw you over less, all the while realizing that all of the money you've paid into a policy for the old insurance company for the last year has been for naught as you didn't make any sort of claim and did not have a baby in time to make it all worth it.  Le sigh.

delicious: eating the dessert you made for your anniversary (a personal favorite of your slightly shorter spouse) straight from the pan and feeling better about having insurance in the first place as a result

delightful: taking your 2 year old to the Bean Museum and having a good laugh at the taxidermist who had to stuff a set of deer balls as part of his job description.  Yes, I said deer balls.  As if peeling the skin off of something and schlepping it over a foam figure weren't crappy enough, please make sure the twig and berries look real too.  I'm just saying, I appreciate the dedication to one's craft.  Deer balls.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

It's not summer anymore

Ah September, we made it.

I have mixed feelings about September you know.  Generally I'm a fan, I mean it's still nice outside but not too sweaty, the kids go back to school and stop getting in my way at the various retail establishments that I frequent, then there's that whole "I'm giving birth in September" thing as well.  

September is good. September is fine.  But you know, let's consider a minute that September acts as sort of a capstone on the summer time fun.  I mean that's pretty much the end of it come the next week or so here.  

And then it's fall. 

Don't get me wrong, I love fall.  Fall is my season.  I even love the first few months of winter.  What I hate with the fire of a thousand suns is the time period of roughly Feb-April.  February through April has never really offered anything good to my life so I'm going to go ahead and hate them as much as I want and I don't care what you say.  

All that's neither here nor there.  Today is September 1st, probably a really good day to have a baby.  I'm sure many women in this great beehive state are doing just that.  

But not me.  

I'll be right here, mopping a floor and folding up those 5 trillion burp clothes I washed two days ago.  

And that's just fine.  I bet the next two weeks have days just as good, if not better, as September 1st anyway.