The kiddo will be a month old in a couple of days (or she is already since she was four weeks yesterday). I am not sure how the hell that happened, the getting to be a month old (how is she so old and how the fuck has it only been a month?), but the girl continues to be a wee one. At her Well Baby visit she moved up the growth charts from tee tiny to less tee tiny. An important step but how a child of mine could be so tiny escapes me.
She can coo and ah at you now but mostly it sounds like geese with gastrointestinal problems mating. The doc says she will give up a non-gassy smile any day. My MIL is convinced her every screech is colic and brings the woe multiple times a day. I think she is just fussy--it's hard being a month old.
Babies this age don't do much but she can pull my hair out by the roots, squawk like an uncomfortable water fowl, make wild eyed expressions, grab at the elephant on her gymni really insistently and charm the pants off everyone she meets. Not bad for the tiniest of the tiny.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Sunday, February 24, 2008
As Well He Should
Today is J and my seventh wedding anniversary. Our wedding, while imperfect, was really amazing. We never truly wanted one, but I am grateful that we had one. It was simple, and very low key (and cheap!), but there is something incredible about all the people who love you in the world in one place, just wishing you the best.
We agreed to not exchange gifts, or do much to mark the day, since the baby is still so little. J broke the rules and bought me diamond earrings (which technically are a Valentine's/Anniversary/Thanks for popping out the baby gift) and we went out to a great dinner. I was scared to be away from the kiddo that long since I am her only food source. And my fear was rewarded with a HUGE freak out when we got back. She was so worked up about being hungry that she couldn't latch to eat.
But J jumped in and calmed her down and we tag teamed fed and calmed her and got her to bed. In a way that sums up our marriage better than diamonds and dinners. Sometimes things are just a raging hot mess and we run in and fix it whatever way we can--as a team.
Not the most romantic of thoughts, but one that is pretty fucking comforting in day to day marriage.
And since the kid is only a month old and I haven't had the all clear appointment there was no hope for J this was going to end with really sincere fellatio. He must really love me.
We agreed to not exchange gifts, or do much to mark the day, since the baby is still so little. J broke the rules and bought me diamond earrings (which technically are a Valentine's/Anniversary/Thanks for popping out the baby gift) and we went out to a great dinner. I was scared to be away from the kiddo that long since I am her only food source. And my fear was rewarded with a HUGE freak out when we got back. She was so worked up about being hungry that she couldn't latch to eat.
But J jumped in and calmed her down and we tag teamed fed and calmed her and got her to bed. In a way that sums up our marriage better than diamonds and dinners. Sometimes things are just a raging hot mess and we run in and fix it whatever way we can--as a team.
Not the most romantic of thoughts, but one that is pretty fucking comforting in day to day marriage.
And since the kid is only a month old and I haven't had the all clear appointment there was no hope for J this was going to end with really sincere fellatio. He must really love me.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
And Shall Never Be Again
For the past couple of days the child has been sucking the life out of me. Literally. The baby has wanted to do nothing but nurse and nurse and nurse. She will eat and then hang out for an hour and then want to eat again. She seems to be gaining weight in front of my very eyes. Which is excellent--we definitely want the little bugger to gain weight. However, does she have to eat non-stop all day? Apparently.
I've had to start eating, which is a positive. Because while losing more than thirty pounds in two weeks is awesome, it was mainly water and baby plus accessories. I still need to make sure I lose the last bit in a healthy way.
Sometimes it is easy to forget about the pregnancy--even though it was a freaking long and agonizing--and expect everything to be the way it was. My recovery has been amazing. I mean I had major surgery three weeks ago. My incision has healed nicely, a lot of the weight has come off, my skin is going back to normal. Of course, sometimes I sit up and want to scream because HI they just cut those muscles less than a month ago.
We're figuring stuff out here these days. Plugging along. The days blend together one after another.
And at least I am not pregnant any fucking more.
I've had to start eating, which is a positive. Because while losing more than thirty pounds in two weeks is awesome, it was mainly water and baby plus accessories. I still need to make sure I lose the last bit in a healthy way.
Sometimes it is easy to forget about the pregnancy--even though it was a freaking long and agonizing--and expect everything to be the way it was. My recovery has been amazing. I mean I had major surgery three weeks ago. My incision has healed nicely, a lot of the weight has come off, my skin is going back to normal. Of course, sometimes I sit up and want to scream because HI they just cut those muscles less than a month ago.
We're figuring stuff out here these days. Plugging along. The days blend together one after another.
And at least I am not pregnant any fucking more.
Monday, February 18, 2008
The Anti-Mush
That's my girl. Bright eyed. Awake. She does this now. It does make the rest of it easier to deal with.
She doesn't like baths. We learned this last night when she turned purple with RAGE at her bath. Screeching bloody murder from the second her clothes were off until we had her dressed again. Even then I was glad that I had planned ahead enough to wait to nurse after so she would calm down. The "Soothing Lavendar" bath stuff probably didn't make her sleepy as planned. But the screaming did wear her ass out.
She has to be swaddled at night. Or her arms flail around and keep her awake. She throws her hands up in a baby Touchdown! gesture. She is not amused if you imitate her on this one.
She gets the hiccups. Full body. I get the loudest hiccups known to man, so loud and full that they shake my body. As a kid my dad would accuse me of faking them. So sorry that I passed that on to you kiddo.
She's three weeks old today. Even anti-mush me can enjoy that.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Ungrateful
People in my house seem to believe that they get an opinion about whether I am being weird about my daughter's sleep. They do not get an opinion.
They do not get an opinion because they are not the ones that pay the price when she doesn't sleep. They don't get up dozens of times during the night (or at all) with her. They don't take care of her during the day. NO ONE GETS AN OPINION BUT ME.
Oh, and J's assurances that my MIL would do whatever I asked? BULLSHIT. I asked her to please not try to keep the baby asleep all day long. If she is tired, let her sleep, but if she is awake have the lights on, talk to her, let her move her arms and legs. PLAY WITH HER. This has been met with an insistance on swaddling her in a dark room all day with a quick switch to letting her arms out when I walk in. My request that she wake me up in the morning after two hours so the kid could eat? Met with her using the pacifier to shut her up for two extra hours so that the kid is so hungry she is hysterical and makes herself puke.
By the way, I am still not allowed to complain. I AM UNGRATEFUL.
I am not allowed to say anything to my husband actually. He is so tired from delivering his software package you see. Which actually, I do feel sorry for him. But he still has the energy to stay up watching movies and go to bars with his friends while I am at home with his mother and baby and exhausted so my sympathy it is Limited.
The list of people I like is also limited. It includes my mommy. And daddy. And the baby. And you internet.
It includes J when he is being adorable with the kid. It doesn't include him when he plays with her for half an hour and then gives her to his mom (who, you guessed it, SWADDLES AND PUTS HER TO SLEEP IMMEDIATELY).
They do not get an opinion because they are not the ones that pay the price when she doesn't sleep. They don't get up dozens of times during the night (or at all) with her. They don't take care of her during the day. NO ONE GETS AN OPINION BUT ME.
Oh, and J's assurances that my MIL would do whatever I asked? BULLSHIT. I asked her to please not try to keep the baby asleep all day long. If she is tired, let her sleep, but if she is awake have the lights on, talk to her, let her move her arms and legs. PLAY WITH HER. This has been met with an insistance on swaddling her in a dark room all day with a quick switch to letting her arms out when I walk in. My request that she wake me up in the morning after two hours so the kid could eat? Met with her using the pacifier to shut her up for two extra hours so that the kid is so hungry she is hysterical and makes herself puke.
By the way, I am still not allowed to complain. I AM UNGRATEFUL.
I am not allowed to say anything to my husband actually. He is so tired from delivering his software package you see. Which actually, I do feel sorry for him. But he still has the energy to stay up watching movies and go to bars with his friends while I am at home with his mother and baby and exhausted so my sympathy it is Limited.
The list of people I like is also limited. It includes my mommy. And daddy. And the baby. And you internet.
It includes J when he is being adorable with the kid. It doesn't include him when he plays with her for half an hour and then gives her to his mom (who, you guessed it, SWADDLES AND PUTS HER TO SLEEP IMMEDIATELY).
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Good and Bad
The good stuff:
For the most part I have been lucky with breastfeeding. With a short, like five minute session, meeting with a lactation consultant at the hospital and a flirtation with nipple shields breast feeding has been pretty simple. I even weaned her mercilously from the shields without even asking her first. I suppose now that I have put this on the internet this will all stop and things will go to hell tonight but so far this has been a bright spot. I am tied to this kid and it is exhausting but at least it has been going as well as could be expected.
The kid is adorable. She gets cuter every day which is good because the hormones are wearing off and the old man newborn look is not as attractive as one would hope. She has fattened up and is filling out her newborn threads much more fetchingly. Also fabulous? How she can hold her pacifier in this tricky way and manages to stash extras in her shirts. How does she do this? Only the under one month set can know.
I managed to shoe-horn the hanging belly into another pair of pre-preggo jeans. These are still not my pants from my skinniest point but they are good jeans and fortunately high waisted enough to control the hang. I am still living in lounge pants but the option of jeans is a happy thought to have tucked into my pocket.
The bad stuff:
The kid doesn't sleep at night. She feeds and naps at lovely intervals (2-4 hours) during the day but at night she can't be down for more than fifteen minutes without something. Some of that is just new-mom shit, I can tell, she snorffles and I have to check on her. But I am also trying to keep her from waking up J and if I am awake anyway? What's the big. This is sucking the life out of me and cannot be good for her since she hits the morning all exhuasted.
I think I am sinking into post-partum depression. I am torn on what to do about this other than tough it out. Is it severe enough for meds? A new mom's group? It's all so confusing. And no one knows shit.
My MIL. Has been SO MUCH help these last couple of weeks. But lord, it has been more than a month and woman doesn't have a job. Or a shot at one. Which means she can't move out. Which is stressful. Even if she is helpful. My house is small and well, it's a lot. I don't want her gone tomorrow. But I'd like some hope that she will be out of the house sometime in the next couple of months. PLEASE
J is gone. All the time. This isn't his fault. Poor thing. He has a big project launching Monday. But it sucks. For me, because he should be with us during this time. And it sucks for Mo, who just adores him. But mainly for me, because I am selfish and if I have to fall apart it basically has to happen when he is here. And there are limits to how much I can hold my shit together.
For the most part I have been lucky with breastfeeding. With a short, like five minute session, meeting with a lactation consultant at the hospital and a flirtation with nipple shields breast feeding has been pretty simple. I even weaned her mercilously from the shields without even asking her first. I suppose now that I have put this on the internet this will all stop and things will go to hell tonight but so far this has been a bright spot. I am tied to this kid and it is exhausting but at least it has been going as well as could be expected.
The kid is adorable. She gets cuter every day which is good because the hormones are wearing off and the old man newborn look is not as attractive as one would hope. She has fattened up and is filling out her newborn threads much more fetchingly. Also fabulous? How she can hold her pacifier in this tricky way and manages to stash extras in her shirts. How does she do this? Only the under one month set can know.
I managed to shoe-horn the hanging belly into another pair of pre-preggo jeans. These are still not my pants from my skinniest point but they are good jeans and fortunately high waisted enough to control the hang. I am still living in lounge pants but the option of jeans is a happy thought to have tucked into my pocket.
The bad stuff:
The kid doesn't sleep at night. She feeds and naps at lovely intervals (2-4 hours) during the day but at night she can't be down for more than fifteen minutes without something. Some of that is just new-mom shit, I can tell, she snorffles and I have to check on her. But I am also trying to keep her from waking up J and if I am awake anyway? What's the big. This is sucking the life out of me and cannot be good for her since she hits the morning all exhuasted.
I think I am sinking into post-partum depression. I am torn on what to do about this other than tough it out. Is it severe enough for meds? A new mom's group? It's all so confusing. And no one knows shit.
My MIL. Has been SO MUCH help these last couple of weeks. But lord, it has been more than a month and woman doesn't have a job. Or a shot at one. Which means she can't move out. Which is stressful. Even if she is helpful. My house is small and well, it's a lot. I don't want her gone tomorrow. But I'd like some hope that she will be out of the house sometime in the next couple of months. PLEASE
J is gone. All the time. This isn't his fault. Poor thing. He has a big project launching Monday. But it sucks. For me, because he should be with us during this time. And it sucks for Mo, who just adores him. But mainly for me, because I am selfish and if I have to fall apart it basically has to happen when he is here. And there are limits to how much I can hold my shit together.
Monday, February 11, 2008
After
Mo started throwing up Friday night and we ended up in the ER. She has a rotovirus that has progressed into diarrhea and no eating and wow we are all fucking miserable. Especially me. Last night she wouldn't sleep unless I was rocking her. So no sleep at all. And my MIL is saving my butt today by taking her because I am a super zombie.
I suck at being a mom. I hit bottom big time Saturday, with tears and freaking out and that wasn't the baby. My mom seriously had to come up and calm my ass down is sad because I am a grown adult. But I couldn't cope at all. And I still can't.
If you are wondering what is happening with me I have a sick baby, am slipping quickly into a depression and am trying desperately to sleep.
Just fine in other words.
I suck at being a mom. I hit bottom big time Saturday, with tears and freaking out and that wasn't the baby. My mom seriously had to come up and calm my ass down is sad because I am a grown adult. But I couldn't cope at all. And I still can't.
If you are wondering what is happening with me I have a sick baby, am slipping quickly into a depression and am trying desperately to sleep.
Just fine in other words.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
The Birth Story
That Saturday we had been out and about doing errands. J's great-grandmother had taken a very bad turn for the worse so I was under orders not to have the baby on the day she died (which I know was meant as a joke but made me cry for hours because I couldn't control that of course and I felt so guilty about everything). I was still having steady contractions and J was harping on me to call triage (I was resisting because it would be the same old verse of no water breakage and no dialation). I had just gotten on all fours in the bed to try to make my back relax when there was this weird popping sound.
J's looking at me, "Jesus, was that your hip?"
And I am bolting for the door, very mindful of our brand new and expensive mattress. I wasn't really sure if my water had broken or if I had lost control of my bladder. J starts running around like a wild beast getting our stuff together while I am babbling about maybe it's just pee and this takes hours can't we stay home and he is on the phone with triage and we are in the damn car careening towards the hospital.
Where there is a wait to get into triage. I am the only one in active labor, and also the only one freaking out because it feels like I am power pissing my pants all over the hospital. While checking in with night security, while in the elevator and again on the bench outside of triage. They take everyone else first because they were there first, even though the sweet girl next to me (who was being screened for pre-eclampsia and just wanted to go home) kept screeching, "But she is in LABOR" when some one else went it.
They put us in a different cubicle this time, one with a door, which seemed like a positive sign that they believed we might actually have the baby. I joke with the nurse about not really being sure about the water breaking even though it is still gushing out of me, but I am not really joking I keep thinking that maybe this is just my bladder going--another humiliating thing about pregnancy. She checks and I am just barely dilated.
The contractions hurt more now. And no one is coming. There is no doctor on the floor. Apparently, every baby being born that night is coming via emergency c-section and there are a shitload of them because it is also snowing. The nurse comes back and good naturedly jokes with me that my water didn't break and I am not even pregnant so get out of that bed. But of course the water had broken and I am not going anywhere.
Hours pass and the doctor still hasn't come. No one checks me again because they don't want to cause infection. I am supposed to go upstairs to labor and delivery but there are no rooms available. Until then it is just waiting. J is pissed. I am just a mess and wondering why anyone does this shit natural.
A nurse appears and I love her immediately. She will be with us all night (and the next night but none of us know that now). She takes us upstairs, gets me settled in and checks me again. My goal is to get to four centimeters and get an epidural. She says that I am close enough that she will call the guy so that I will be first in line. She also gives me something to take the edge off. I am pretty sure I propose to her. I am her only patient, and fortunately she finds J and I hilarious. He really is being a champ. They bring me giant cups of water and juice because after the epidural I can only have ice chips. At this point it has already been nine hours since I had eaten so I gulp them down with a Tums chaser.
The anesthesiaologist comes and scares the crap out of me with the forms you have to sign. Not that I care about dying at this point, I just really want to be able to relax. The pain is a place and I cannot hide anywhere from it. They position me to put the tube in my back and I bury my face in J's waist so I won't move. And suddenly he is telling everyone to stop and is sitting on the ground. Apparently, Mr. Rock Solid is great around blood but iodine outdoes him and he has to sit this part out.
After the epidural I love everyone. I can still feel my legs and the contractions but they don't hurt much anymore. I have a button to push if the pain is intense for more drugs and a continuous dose dripping throughout the night. I love modern medicine. J and I pass out for a few hours after realizing the baby will probably have his brother's birthday.
In the morning I have not dilated much more. A new nurse is with us. She is also lovely. J leaves periodically to eat and usher in various visitors like my parents who have arrived even though we said it would be hours. I am more bored than anything. It still hurts but I am just very aware of time passing and little progress being made. Hours earlier we had agreed to the pitocin, once you have an epidural there is not really a lot of reason to worry about pitocin. My contractions were stronger and closer together but not much was happening.
At seven I am eight centimeters dilated. Our nurse from the night before is back. Just two more until I can push. J sends everyone home because it is still going to be a while. They can come see the baby the next day. Finally I get to ten centimeters. And we realize that the baby probably won't have his brother's birthday after all.
She is transverse and so we try bizarre positions to push from. I hang from a bar, J have my legs in the air. I push until my eyes pop out of my head. I definitely shit on the birthing bed. Probably more than once. She moves forward and then back. After four hours, the doctor comes in and tells me I could keep going for twenty more minutes but he doesn't think she is going anywhere. Most people quit after twenty minutes. I agree to the c-section. The baby is clearly a tough cookie because she hasn't crashed once but we are past 24 hours since my water broke and I am just done. After the decision is made it takes only a few minutes and we are in the operating room.
More drugs. And ioadine. But J isn't with me. I don't care much about what is happening. J does show up and is doing his best to keep me calm. He doesn't seem to realize that this isn't happening to me, it is happening to somebody else. I don't feel anything, I just hear the nurse's talk about "what a big baby!" and then "wait a minute maybe she isn't so big." And she was out.
That is when I started shaking and crying. I don't think I let myself be scared until that moment. She wasn't big, under seven pounds. And she was here.
The rest of our stay in the hospital was a blur for me, now it feels like a vacation with all the pain medication and sleeping. And now we are at home.
J's looking at me, "Jesus, was that your hip?"
And I am bolting for the door, very mindful of our brand new and expensive mattress. I wasn't really sure if my water had broken or if I had lost control of my bladder. J starts running around like a wild beast getting our stuff together while I am babbling about maybe it's just pee and this takes hours can't we stay home and he is on the phone with triage and we are in the damn car careening towards the hospital.
Where there is a wait to get into triage. I am the only one in active labor, and also the only one freaking out because it feels like I am power pissing my pants all over the hospital. While checking in with night security, while in the elevator and again on the bench outside of triage. They take everyone else first because they were there first, even though the sweet girl next to me (who was being screened for pre-eclampsia and just wanted to go home) kept screeching, "But she is in LABOR" when some one else went it.
They put us in a different cubicle this time, one with a door, which seemed like a positive sign that they believed we might actually have the baby. I joke with the nurse about not really being sure about the water breaking even though it is still gushing out of me, but I am not really joking I keep thinking that maybe this is just my bladder going--another humiliating thing about pregnancy. She checks and I am just barely dilated.
The contractions hurt more now. And no one is coming. There is no doctor on the floor. Apparently, every baby being born that night is coming via emergency c-section and there are a shitload of them because it is also snowing. The nurse comes back and good naturedly jokes with me that my water didn't break and I am not even pregnant so get out of that bed. But of course the water had broken and I am not going anywhere.
Hours pass and the doctor still hasn't come. No one checks me again because they don't want to cause infection. I am supposed to go upstairs to labor and delivery but there are no rooms available. Until then it is just waiting. J is pissed. I am just a mess and wondering why anyone does this shit natural.
A nurse appears and I love her immediately. She will be with us all night (and the next night but none of us know that now). She takes us upstairs, gets me settled in and checks me again. My goal is to get to four centimeters and get an epidural. She says that I am close enough that she will call the guy so that I will be first in line. She also gives me something to take the edge off. I am pretty sure I propose to her. I am her only patient, and fortunately she finds J and I hilarious. He really is being a champ. They bring me giant cups of water and juice because after the epidural I can only have ice chips. At this point it has already been nine hours since I had eaten so I gulp them down with a Tums chaser.
The anesthesiaologist comes and scares the crap out of me with the forms you have to sign. Not that I care about dying at this point, I just really want to be able to relax. The pain is a place and I cannot hide anywhere from it. They position me to put the tube in my back and I bury my face in J's waist so I won't move. And suddenly he is telling everyone to stop and is sitting on the ground. Apparently, Mr. Rock Solid is great around blood but iodine outdoes him and he has to sit this part out.
After the epidural I love everyone. I can still feel my legs and the contractions but they don't hurt much anymore. I have a button to push if the pain is intense for more drugs and a continuous dose dripping throughout the night. I love modern medicine. J and I pass out for a few hours after realizing the baby will probably have his brother's birthday.
In the morning I have not dilated much more. A new nurse is with us. She is also lovely. J leaves periodically to eat and usher in various visitors like my parents who have arrived even though we said it would be hours. I am more bored than anything. It still hurts but I am just very aware of time passing and little progress being made. Hours earlier we had agreed to the pitocin, once you have an epidural there is not really a lot of reason to worry about pitocin. My contractions were stronger and closer together but not much was happening.
At seven I am eight centimeters dilated. Our nurse from the night before is back. Just two more until I can push. J sends everyone home because it is still going to be a while. They can come see the baby the next day. Finally I get to ten centimeters. And we realize that the baby probably won't have his brother's birthday after all.
She is transverse and so we try bizarre positions to push from. I hang from a bar, J have my legs in the air. I push until my eyes pop out of my head. I definitely shit on the birthing bed. Probably more than once. She moves forward and then back. After four hours, the doctor comes in and tells me I could keep going for twenty more minutes but he doesn't think she is going anywhere. Most people quit after twenty minutes. I agree to the c-section. The baby is clearly a tough cookie because she hasn't crashed once but we are past 24 hours since my water broke and I am just done. After the decision is made it takes only a few minutes and we are in the operating room.
More drugs. And ioadine. But J isn't with me. I don't care much about what is happening. J does show up and is doing his best to keep me calm. He doesn't seem to realize that this isn't happening to me, it is happening to somebody else. I don't feel anything, I just hear the nurse's talk about "what a big baby!" and then "wait a minute maybe she isn't so big." And she was out.
That is when I started shaking and crying. I don't think I let myself be scared until that moment. She wasn't big, under seven pounds. And she was here.
The rest of our stay in the hospital was a blur for me, now it feels like a vacation with all the pain medication and sleeping. And now we are at home.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
And I Don't
This is my daughter tonight. Her jaundice numbers have gotten worse and yes, she is orange like George Hamilton. She doesn't have the other symptoms. She is energetic, she eats well, she is definitely filling diapers. At the ped this morning she was pretty close to her birth weight which surprised the doctor. But as a precaution she is on the lights until they get better.
As far as health problems go, I am keeping positive that she will be fine. But my baby is on a bed of lights, zipped in and I can't take her out at all 24 hours a day except to nurse her and change her diaper. It's a crazy thing to tell some one not to hold their newborn baby. And even crazier that it could be a week or more.
I am grateful that we can do this in our home. And given some of the things that visiting nurse said I am fairly confident she'll be out soon. But she is miserable in there, and I am miserable with her in there. We may have to do this but I do not have to like it.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
No Story, Just Plugs
We had a wee bit of a horrific night last night and I am trying to be positive in my thoughts. So I am not going to think about labor or birth or pregnancy and just think happy thoughts.
So I am going to talk about two things that have been fantastic for me (I know, I have been a mom for a week but I am just saying).
Glamourmom nursing tanks. Fucking LOVE. Wish that I had bought more than just two (actually am ordering two more). I bought the long lengths, one in black and one in white. They have a shelf bra which was just BARELY enough for me in my engorged porn star state. I did have to do a little stuffing. But I needed to wear something all the time and these were comfy enough for sleep and supportive enough to wear outside the house (not that I do much of that). They are comfortable, hold breast pads in place easily and cover the belly while you nurse. Although I haven't nursed in public yet, I have nursed in front of my MIL and dad in this baby so that tells you the coverage is good. They are not as shaping as some of the other bras I have seen but they are very good at least for this first week--when you just want to relax and sleep and not have your breasts hit you in the face.
And Kissaluvs cloth diapers (I did buy them at Jillians Drawers that link and got great service BTW). I am not much of an environmentalist. I am really just cheap. And when I figured out that I would save money using these, the baby was likely to be just as or more comfortable, they were super easy and better for the environment it seemed worth a shot. All the diaper boards (yes there are diaper boards, and an alarming subculture that I pretty much am frightened by PLEASE DON'T HURT MY BABY) rated these as the best ones for newborns. She had a couple of blow-outs with the disposables and none with the cloth. Her skin looks fabulous, they are so absorbant and since my MIL is here doing laundry I am THRILLED.
I promise to post more pictures of Gorgeous Baby and the story of her birth (something that should not be read by pregnant ladies even though it is nowhere near the worst thing that could happen but seems all the more likely to happen because we are both fine).
And I am sorry but how fucking fun was it to watch the Patriot's lose the Super Bowl? HEH
So I am going to talk about two things that have been fantastic for me (I know, I have been a mom for a week but I am just saying).
Glamourmom nursing tanks. Fucking LOVE. Wish that I had bought more than just two (actually am ordering two more). I bought the long lengths, one in black and one in white. They have a shelf bra which was just BARELY enough for me in my engorged porn star state. I did have to do a little stuffing. But I needed to wear something all the time and these were comfy enough for sleep and supportive enough to wear outside the house (not that I do much of that). They are comfortable, hold breast pads in place easily and cover the belly while you nurse. Although I haven't nursed in public yet, I have nursed in front of my MIL and dad in this baby so that tells you the coverage is good. They are not as shaping as some of the other bras I have seen but they are very good at least for this first week--when you just want to relax and sleep and not have your breasts hit you in the face.
And Kissaluvs cloth diapers (I did buy them at Jillians Drawers that link and got great service BTW). I am not much of an environmentalist. I am really just cheap. And when I figured out that I would save money using these, the baby was likely to be just as or more comfortable, they were super easy and better for the environment it seemed worth a shot. All the diaper boards (yes there are diaper boards, and an alarming subculture that I pretty much am frightened by PLEASE DON'T HURT MY BABY) rated these as the best ones for newborns. She had a couple of blow-outs with the disposables and none with the cloth. Her skin looks fabulous, they are so absorbant and since my MIL is here doing laundry I am THRILLED.
I promise to post more pictures of Gorgeous Baby and the story of her birth (something that should not be read by pregnant ladies even though it is nowhere near the worst thing that could happen but seems all the more likely to happen because we are both fine).
And I am sorry but how fucking fun was it to watch the Patriot's lose the Super Bowl? HEH
Not So Cute
I haven't written the whole birth story yet (which I know the internet is gasping for) but I know there is some satisfaction when reading a blog to getting the dirt. Plus I do want a record so I can look back should I have an urge to have another I can read that and go WAIT 26 hours and pushing? NOW I FUCKING REMEMBER
As a little tease: it starts with SAVE THE NEW MATTRESS, getting to the hospital and waiting in the waiting room, back labor with panic about how it gets WORSE, finally getting a room, J lying on the ground during my epidural, hanging from a bar trying to turn this child and then surgery.
Damn that little tease was long thing may turn into a mega entry or a multi parter.
I took the kiddo on a short outing today because I was getting stir crazy before birth and nothing makes that worse quite like a five or six days depending on how you count it in the hospital. Then I came back to my house and my mama ordered me to bed. Lying about how she would come get me. LIES.
The kiddo continues to be awesome. She sleeps really good during the day and moderately well at night. I think the night problem is mainly lonliness. She really just wants to some one to get up and hold her. J generally does that shift because I look like a corpse and have bleeding nipples.
My main problem is that I don't eat. I just forget about it and am still in late term pregnancy mode. So I don't eat much is apparently bad when nursing. Also I still look pregnant. Like six months instead of bursting but it is distressing because I look like I have a pot belly. With giant breasts. Maybe I am a transgendered trucker before transition?
Not so cute.
As a little tease: it starts with SAVE THE NEW MATTRESS, getting to the hospital and waiting in the waiting room, back labor with panic about how it gets WORSE, finally getting a room, J lying on the ground during my epidural, hanging from a bar trying to turn this child and then surgery.
Damn that little tease was long thing may turn into a mega entry or a multi parter.
I took the kiddo on a short outing today because I was getting stir crazy before birth and nothing makes that worse quite like a five or six days depending on how you count it in the hospital. Then I came back to my house and my mama ordered me to bed. Lying about how she would come get me. LIES.
The kiddo continues to be awesome. She sleeps really good during the day and moderately well at night. I think the night problem is mainly lonliness. She really just wants to some one to get up and hold her. J generally does that shift because I look like a corpse and have bleeding nipples.
My main problem is that I don't eat. I just forget about it and am still in late term pregnancy mode. So I don't eat much is apparently bad when nursing. Also I still look pregnant. Like six months instead of bursting but it is distressing because I look like I have a pot belly. With giant breasts. Maybe I am a transgendered trucker before transition?
Not so cute.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
To Be Called Mo
So you are probably wondering where the fuck I have been.
Ramona Kathrine was born January 28th at 1:41 am. I am still too exhausted (and using the hospital internet connection) to give you all the details. But she is here, she is just gorgeous, and I am a good deal mushier than anyone could have anticipated.
More info later.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Updated
I've edited a couple of entries because the privacy of others is more important than dumping this shit in my brain on the internet. It is fairly unlikely that my MIL would find this blog, but if she did it would have been easy for her to misunderstand and be hurt by what I said here. It's not her fault, my feelings of stress, so I do have to make an effort to not vilify her here. Tempting though it may be.
J and I got into a massive fight about it last night (the situation, not blogging). Things boiled over and some pretty ugly things got said. I feel better than I did but I do think that something has changed between us. And it's not going to change back. It's a bad situation that isn't going to get better and that is hard to accept.
J and I got into a massive fight about it last night (the situation, not blogging). Things boiled over and some pretty ugly things got said. I feel better than I did but I do think that something has changed between us. And it's not going to change back. It's a bad situation that isn't going to get better and that is hard to accept.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Progress
TMI alert, just scroll on by if you don't feel like details.
But am 2 cm. dilating and 80% effaced. Doctor stripped my membranes (OUCH) just to see if it would bring anything on. Since then something is happening I just do not know what. I gather the window is small to get labor going with this technique so if something doesn't happen before Saturday than it didn't work. But still. At least there is progress.
In other news I think I need to stop writing about my MIL troubles. Because . . . well. They aren't going anywhere. For those who have asked (kindly), yes, J and I have talked about this. But we are in a difficult position. She doesn't really have anywhere else to go since she moved up here for this. Unfortunately, I think I misunderstood because I thought she was coming up to change her life and then to ultimately help us take care of the Girl after I go back to work. But mainly I thought it was about her taking charge of her life. Now I think I just didn't get it because she thinks she is up here to help me.
It's a big fucking mess.
ETA: I have gone back and edited entries. In the interest of goodwill and privacy. Thank you for your support.
But am 2 cm. dilating and 80% effaced. Doctor stripped my membranes (OUCH) just to see if it would bring anything on. Since then something is happening I just do not know what. I gather the window is small to get labor going with this technique so if something doesn't happen before Saturday than it didn't work. But still. At least there is progress.
In other news I think I need to stop writing about my MIL troubles. Because . . . well. They aren't going anywhere. For those who have asked (kindly), yes, J and I have talked about this. But we are in a difficult position. She doesn't really have anywhere else to go since she moved up here for this. Unfortunately, I think I misunderstood because I thought she was coming up to change her life and then to ultimately help us take care of the Girl after I go back to work. But mainly I thought it was about her taking charge of her life. Now I think I just didn't get it because she thinks she is up here to help me.
It's a big fucking mess.
ETA: I have gone back and edited entries. In the interest of goodwill and privacy. Thank you for your support.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
What Kind Of Person Sneak Cleans?
I completed my Girl Scout badge of Hazardous Daughter-in-Law Service this week. I took her to look at a school (which strikes me as bizarre because I wouldn't need some one to go with me but WE ARE ALL DIFFERENT I GUESS) and for her bra fitting tonight. I made J go with me, and the deal was I would tell her what happens at a fitting and find the fitter for her but I wouldn't go in. I have boundaries people.
I also snuck in a floor scrubbing when she went to go get her social security card. I was skipping around I was so happy. No one griping at me about over-doing anything. A satisfying clean floor.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
I also snuck in a floor scrubbing when she went to go get her social security card. I was skipping around I was so happy. No one griping at me about over-doing anything. A satisfying clean floor.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Sorry. I Am Obsessed With This
For J and I, one of the hardest things about being married is just understanding where the other one is coming from.
If you tried you probably could not come up with two more disparate upbringings. My parents are pretty Ozzie and Harriet, very middle class, with mostly Midwestern values. It is tempting to call my childhood "normal" but as an adult I am well aware of how many kids are not lucky enough to live that way. I would say that I would be thrilled if I could give my daughter a childhood like I had. And I believe that J would be too--to him I grew up like kids on fiftie's sitcoms. Something he didn't believe was real.
This doesn't mean that my parents are/were perfect, just that I was never afraid or insecure. I never went hungry or worried about my family's financial position. I had opportunities to go to good schools and have extras like camp and sports. I went to college. This is how I want my daughter to feel and what I want her to have.
J's life was different. And I hesitate to get too detailed because he has his right to privacy (heh sort of) but it's the total eightie's package. With divorce and other family problems. The financial and emotional things that come with that, plus some other kind of scary things thrown in (vague enough?). I know he would do anything to prevent that from happening to our family.
But it means his sense of what is normal is just WEIRD to me. And with his mom here they get into these cycles of remembering things that freak me out. They try to one up each other remembering more violent or fucked up episodes from their past. They have a kind of pride in them. I don't think that they should be ashamed or anything but it is a strange situation for me.
You can see how we interact with our respective parents would be different. And what is polite, where our personal boundaries, even manners are different. And it is hard. When we were first together it made me crazy about how he is always late, and never apologizes for it. He thinks that because he doesn't care when others are late that no one minds. Even when some one clearly does. He thinks I am too formal with friends, waiting for invitations before showing up at their homes (and never inviting myself along). Eventually, we have reached a sort of truce point about most things--compromises so that we both feel as comfortable as possible.
But we haven't had much interaction with his family in all of this time (and we are talking nine years). So they are strangers to me, even though I know some people would consider them "family". He has expectations about how I should behave and feel about his family that I just cannot live up to. He thinks that intimacies that feel so creepy to me are normal because "she wants to help." It's hard to explain, but to me it is as if he met some one on the street and brought her home. And expects me to treat her the same (or actually in some cases more familiarly) than my own mother.
And the two of them are stressing me out so much I can barely breathe. I try, I really do. I try to make small talk (which no one in their family seems capable of--they just share anything which I suppose is fine except it really does make me uncomfortable). I try to help her find jobs and housing. I stick to impersonal topics and just hope that over time we become friends. But they don't want me to do anything. I am not allowed to do ANYTHING in my house. In her eagerness to help (which is sincere I know) I am now imprisoned in my damn bedroom all day. Because if I even try to make myself a snack she tries to stop me to help.
I would like to clarify to everyone that I am having a baby. I am not actually a baby.
I do appreciate that no one wants me to overdo. I really do. And I appreciate the sentiment of wanting to help. But honestly, if I want to clean my bathroom (which was necessary because J wasn't going to do it and I cannot ask her to do it maybe that is dumb but I can't, especially in light of how spoiled and rich she thinks I am), then I can clean my damn bathroom. What is the worst that could happen? I could go into labor? ISN'T THAT WHAT EVERYONE WANTS? I mean y'all only talk to me about contractions and people just stare at me if I leave my room (another reason I don't leave it) so wouldn't it make everyone happier if I just had the baby?
I just want some privacy and some space. I have a lot of shit going on right now and being pushed into a close relationship with some one who doesn't like me (but sure is now changing her tune since I am having her grandchild) and makes me so uncomfortable is making this worse. I will not keep her from the baby (though if that cough doesn't go away she'll have to wear a mask because DAMN) but please just let me figure this stuff out without complicating it. And having to sort out an in-law relationship that most people would have figured out many years ago is complicating things.
I don't really get his perspective here. Maybe he is trying to force me to accept his mother? But I really resent that somehow, once again, any rejection I have of his point of view means that I am an unfair classist asshole but no one has to try to see things from my side.
Wow. Biggest, and yet vague, brain dump on the internet EVER. At least for me. Sorry y'all.
If you tried you probably could not come up with two more disparate upbringings. My parents are pretty Ozzie and Harriet, very middle class, with mostly Midwestern values. It is tempting to call my childhood "normal" but as an adult I am well aware of how many kids are not lucky enough to live that way. I would say that I would be thrilled if I could give my daughter a childhood like I had. And I believe that J would be too--to him I grew up like kids on fiftie's sitcoms. Something he didn't believe was real.
This doesn't mean that my parents are/were perfect, just that I was never afraid or insecure. I never went hungry or worried about my family's financial position. I had opportunities to go to good schools and have extras like camp and sports. I went to college. This is how I want my daughter to feel and what I want her to have.
J's life was different. And I hesitate to get too detailed because he has his right to privacy (heh sort of) but it's the total eightie's package. With divorce and other family problems. The financial and emotional things that come with that, plus some other kind of scary things thrown in (vague enough?). I know he would do anything to prevent that from happening to our family.
But it means his sense of what is normal is just WEIRD to me. And with his mom here they get into these cycles of remembering things that freak me out. They try to one up each other remembering more violent or fucked up episodes from their past. They have a kind of pride in them. I don't think that they should be ashamed or anything but it is a strange situation for me.
You can see how we interact with our respective parents would be different. And what is polite, where our personal boundaries, even manners are different. And it is hard. When we were first together it made me crazy about how he is always late, and never apologizes for it. He thinks that because he doesn't care when others are late that no one minds. Even when some one clearly does. He thinks I am too formal with friends, waiting for invitations before showing up at their homes (and never inviting myself along). Eventually, we have reached a sort of truce point about most things--compromises so that we both feel as comfortable as possible.
But we haven't had much interaction with his family in all of this time (and we are talking nine years). So they are strangers to me, even though I know some people would consider them "family". He has expectations about how I should behave and feel about his family that I just cannot live up to. He thinks that intimacies that feel so creepy to me are normal because "she wants to help." It's hard to explain, but to me it is as if he met some one on the street and brought her home. And expects me to treat her the same (or actually in some cases more familiarly) than my own mother.
And the two of them are stressing me out so much I can barely breathe. I try, I really do. I try to make small talk (which no one in their family seems capable of--they just share anything which I suppose is fine except it really does make me uncomfortable). I try to help her find jobs and housing. I stick to impersonal topics and just hope that over time we become friends. But they don't want me to do anything. I am not allowed to do ANYTHING in my house. In her eagerness to help (which is sincere I know) I am now imprisoned in my damn bedroom all day. Because if I even try to make myself a snack she tries to stop me to help.
I would like to clarify to everyone that I am having a baby. I am not actually a baby.
I do appreciate that no one wants me to overdo. I really do. And I appreciate the sentiment of wanting to help. But honestly, if I want to clean my bathroom (which was necessary because J wasn't going to do it and I cannot ask her to do it maybe that is dumb but I can't, especially in light of how spoiled and rich she thinks I am), then I can clean my damn bathroom. What is the worst that could happen? I could go into labor? ISN'T THAT WHAT EVERYONE WANTS? I mean y'all only talk to me about contractions and people just stare at me if I leave my room (another reason I don't leave it) so wouldn't it make everyone happier if I just had the baby?
I just want some privacy and some space. I have a lot of shit going on right now and being pushed into a close relationship with some one who doesn't like me (but sure is now changing her tune since I am having her grandchild) and makes me so uncomfortable is making this worse. I will not keep her from the baby (though if that cough doesn't go away she'll have to wear a mask because DAMN) but please just let me figure this stuff out without complicating it. And having to sort out an in-law relationship that most people would have figured out many years ago is complicating things.
I don't really get his perspective here. Maybe he is trying to force me to accept his mother? But I really resent that somehow, once again, any rejection I have of his point of view means that I am an unfair classist asshole but no one has to try to see things from my side.
Wow. Biggest, and yet vague, brain dump on the internet EVER. At least for me. Sorry y'all.
Monday, January 21, 2008
If I See the 31st I Will Be Less Patient
J has this expectation that I am going to take his mother bra shopping tomorrow.
How much do I love this man? I am truly not sure I love him this much. I don't really feel like I should have to think about my MIL's breasts this much, or AT ALL.
Also. Please please please some one hire this woman. And find her an apartment. And move her belongings. Quickly. Because I want to grow to enjoy her and believe I will one day but that day is not today, because I am a mega bitch who cannot cope with so much togetherness. Also she puts garlic salt on everything. Probably even toast. HELP ME.
This child, she is not moving. Well she is moving but not out of her uterine abode. This is upsetting almost everyone else more than me. Now that I am not DYING from a cold and contractions I feel a little more patient. Not that I wouldn't welcome the little screamer but there is nothing to be done. I think J jinxed me by telling everyone that he would be STUNNED if I made it to the 20th. Welcome to the 21st Darling.
How much do I love this man? I am truly not sure I love him this much. I don't really feel like I should have to think about my MIL's breasts this much, or AT ALL.
Also. Please please please some one hire this woman. And find her an apartment. And move her belongings. Quickly. Because I want to grow to enjoy her and believe I will one day but that day is not today, because I am a mega bitch who cannot cope with so much togetherness. Also she puts garlic salt on everything. Probably even toast. HELP ME.
This child, she is not moving. Well she is moving but not out of her uterine abode. This is upsetting almost everyone else more than me. Now that I am not DYING from a cold and contractions I feel a little more patient. Not that I wouldn't welcome the little screamer but there is nothing to be done. I think J jinxed me by telling everyone that he would be STUNNED if I made it to the 20th. Welcome to the 21st Darling.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Thankfully She Will Not Be In The Delivery Room
After a couple of days of anti-biotics I am admittedly perkier. And still contracting at about 5 minutes apart. While walking at the mall today I had a couple that made me shake and stop breathing (I realize that you don't want to stop breathing when in pain). I suppose this means that progress is being made. I told J that I didn't want to go back to Triage unless my water broke or the contractions stayed at the crazy intense can't move level at less than 3 minutes apart for at least three hours.
I have a feeling we will be here a while.
I was pitiful enough at the OB's yesterday that she immediately put me on disability. THANK YOU GOD. I currently feel like the child is gutting the marrow out of my pelvis with a melon baller. This is making my cough a particular delight.
I am finishing the night watching a marathon of Pro's vs. Joes (new episodes Thursday!) with Darla. I think she now knows when the contractions come because she rushes over when they happen.
I could sort of deal without her licking me during them though.
I have a feeling we will be here a while.
I was pitiful enough at the OB's yesterday that she immediately put me on disability. THANK YOU GOD. I currently feel like the child is gutting the marrow out of my pelvis with a melon baller. This is making my cough a particular delight.
I am finishing the night watching a marathon of Pro's vs. Joes (new episodes Thursday!) with Darla. I think she now knows when the contractions come because she rushes over when they happen.
I could sort of deal without her licking me during them though.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Someday
I know I have been bitching about having a cold for approximately 870 years. This week, while still fucking contracting every five minutes, it developed into something that is still trying to kill me. Sore throat, cough, headache, and a nose that alternates between being plugged like cement and running like a faucet. . . I have been just thrilled with this. Poor J has been beside himself trying to figure out what to do with me. If I lie down, my contractions slow to one every fifteen minutes. But the second I do much of anything they start up again. If I wasn't dying of some sort of bubonic plague than we would be beginning eviction procedures right now. I am likely to feel better right after delivery. Problem is that I am so tired I can barely move so walking around is difficult--labor just seems impossible.
I have been giving a pep talk to my girl parts--something alone the lines of "I GET IT. I AM TERRIBLE AT THIS. SHE'LL BE AN ONLY CHILD PLEASE STOP KILLING ME!" Something light and not hysterical at all.
I went to my regular doctor (not that I have ever seen her before since J and I seem to be the kiss of death for family doctors at our practice) and she prescribed anti-biotics. Not before trying to guilt me about being allergic to penicillin which apparently makes finding something else like analyzing an actuarial table in difficulty level. I didn't like her.
She offered to be the baby's doctor and while I am sure she is plenty confident since she didn't notice I was pregnant (despite the notes all over my chart and the GIANT belly) I don't have a ton of confidence in her.
Meanwhile I'll just be lying here in my bed, drinking water and watching too much shitty tv. Someday I'll have a baby. MAYBE.
I have been giving a pep talk to my girl parts--something alone the lines of "I GET IT. I AM TERRIBLE AT THIS. SHE'LL BE AN ONLY CHILD PLEASE STOP KILLING ME!" Something light and not hysterical at all.
I went to my regular doctor (not that I have ever seen her before since J and I seem to be the kiss of death for family doctors at our practice) and she prescribed anti-biotics. Not before trying to guilt me about being allergic to penicillin which apparently makes finding something else like analyzing an actuarial table in difficulty level. I didn't like her.
She offered to be the baby's doctor and while I am sure she is plenty confident since she didn't notice I was pregnant (despite the notes all over my chart and the GIANT belly) I don't have a ton of confidence in her.
Meanwhile I'll just be lying here in my bed, drinking water and watching too much shitty tv. Someday I'll have a baby. MAYBE.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
I Wouldn't Either, I'd Like To Be In A Hotel For the Duration
Well shit. Constant contractions since Saturday. Three trips to the hospital (they made me!) and no baby. I've been joking since Thanksgiving that this kid could come any time after my hair appointment Saturday since I would be full term then. Then Saturday my salon had done some voodoo and booked some one in my spot (!) and though the contractions started I didn't get anywhere. So I finally got cut and groomed so come on out sweetheart, I am pretty sure your grandpa will buy you a damn pony.
All of this means that I am incredibly crabby and tired and weepy. If you want to understand hell, put some one in constant pain that is not eased by anything and have them make no progress at all. I am still in early labor and barely dilated at all. I haven't slept normally since Friday and I think technically I should be going to work tomorrow (I am still trying to arrange disability).
Everything sucks. The nurses are borderline mean (I love this, they tell you to come or you are ordered by your doctor to come in and then they get all snotty with you "WHY DO YOU THINK YOU NEED TO BE HERE") and change their story a lot. The rules are come in when your contractions hurt and are 3-5 minutes apart for at least an hour. But when you do that they will bitch about how you are not dilated and your contractions should be closer together (I guess when they don't stop or you actually have the baby you can come in). All of this makes me want to cry when talking about it because I never want to go back again. One nurse said each of the following three things, "You are only 37 weeks, you shouldn't be walking around to make labor progress," "You can either go home or walk for an hour to see if your cervix changes," AND "Don't walk, it doesn't do anything anyway"
I pretty much hated her.
ETA: I've edited this entry, my apologies.
Actually, no wonder the baby doesn't want to come out.
All of this means that I am incredibly crabby and tired and weepy. If you want to understand hell, put some one in constant pain that is not eased by anything and have them make no progress at all. I am still in early labor and barely dilated at all. I haven't slept normally since Friday and I think technically I should be going to work tomorrow (I am still trying to arrange disability).
Everything sucks. The nurses are borderline mean (I love this, they tell you to come or you are ordered by your doctor to come in and then they get all snotty with you "WHY DO YOU THINK YOU NEED TO BE HERE") and change their story a lot. The rules are come in when your contractions hurt and are 3-5 minutes apart for at least an hour. But when you do that they will bitch about how you are not dilated and your contractions should be closer together (I guess when they don't stop or you actually have the baby you can come in). All of this makes me want to cry when talking about it because I never want to go back again. One nurse said each of the following three things, "You are only 37 weeks, you shouldn't be walking around to make labor progress," "You can either go home or walk for an hour to see if your cervix changes," AND "Don't walk, it doesn't do anything anyway"
I pretty much hated her.
ETA: I've edited this entry, my apologies.
Actually, no wonder the baby doesn't want to come out.
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