Posted by Lily on Feb 6, 2009 in
Cameron,
parenting We have a debate in our house about when exactly Cameron is 4 months old. I say now, as he is 16 weeks, but John says no, not until 2/14, when it will have been four months date wise. Ultimately John is probably right as the 4 month check-up isn’t until 2/17. So this apparently is the magic age where he goes from weeks to months. Yet another sign of growing. I technically can’t call him my newborn or wait in the newborn waiting area anymore. It is only separated from the well-child area by a door, but it was a protective-I-still-have-a-nugget-who-needs-extra-special-care door.
There have been lots of developments for little man Cam. He has total control over his head (which he has actually had for awhile, I’ve just been neglect in my reporting), solid trunk strength (although balance is a little wonky still, so he can’t yet sit unassisted), grabs stuff…
Puts any and everything into his mouth…
Chatters and laughs constantly, sucks his lip, sucks his fingers, sucks his thumb…
And most importantly in his ever expanding world, rolls over .
He only does it about once a day after a long, drawn out, dramatic conversation of shrieks and grunts and wails and more grunts. Yet somehow he does it. Then he looks around on his stomach for awhile, very proud of his accomplishment for about five minutes and then gets mad that he is on his belly. Unfortunately he has not mastered the art of flipping back over.
He leads a tough life.
He is now sleeping in his own bed, although it is next to ours. I had a much more difficult time with the transition then he did. In fact I’m not sure he really noticed. His sleeping patterns are exactly what they were in our bed. Soon we will transition him to the other side of the room, and then eventually to his own room. First we have to show him his own room because I think he has spent approximately 30 seconds there.
He also has developed an affinity for a security blanket. He has lots and lots of blankets and I’ve been giving them to him since he was born to see if he likes one more than another. He hasn’t shown any interest in them. However, there was one that somehow hadn’t gotten in the mix of blankets, so I washed it the other day and gave it to him and he LOVED it. Grabbed it, rubbed it, chewed it, can’t get enough of it.
It is the twin of my security blanket when I was little. Literally the twin. My mom found it in a closet at their house one time when I was visiting before he was born. So he now has his security blanket.
There are a million small things that also continue to change everyday. He grows and develops and changes it seems almost from one nap to the next. He becomes more enjoyable with every change and seems more alert and interested in the world. He fills our hearts up in ways we didn’t actually know were possible and we now get why people have more than one child. Because for awhile there we wondered if there was some sadistic gene we were missing that caused people to enjoy the early weeks of the newborn life.
But now we totally get it.
Posted by Lily on Jan 28, 2009 in
Cameron,
parenting There has been lots going on in the world of Bogey and I have either been too exhausted, overwhelmed, or busy to post. Hopefully all of that will be changing very soon. Like maybe next week. When I begin my NEW job.
Going back to work hasn’t worked. I wake Cameron up in the mornings, feeling awful for doing so, throw a boob at him (didn’t know I could throw them, did you), throw him in the car, and whisk him off to my mother-in-law’s, through 45 minutes of traffic. I then sit at work all day missing him and wondering if he’s miserable or happy or sad or feeling bad or feeling good or missing me or forgetting me. I then rush over after work to grab him, hear about his day and either be sad because it was awesome and I missed it, or be sad because it was terrible and I missed it. I then throw him in the car (sometimes with a boob, sometimes without), wade through 45 minutes more of traffic, get home, and am barely able to see straight. John kindly prepares food and manages to shovel it in me as I try to stay awake and enjoy the precious few hours I have with my child. I then collapse into bed, trying to stay awake as long as Cameron does. He sleeps a few hours, wakes, eats, sleeps, wakes, eats, sleeps, and the whole cycle begins again.
I was at my ragged edge. In the last month since I’ve been back at work I feel as tired as when he was a newborn. I can’t think coherently, and have been unhappy, with each day worse than the previous one. I began the frantic resume sending, desperate for any other option. One in particular with a hospice in the area. A dear friend here had worked there and had nothing but wonderful things to say about it. And after talking with me a few days after I was back at work, she (four days postpartum herself) called the hospice and made sure my resume was on somebody’s desk. I had a phone call that afternoon. Thus began the process of interviewing, reference checking, and ultimately, a new, wonderful job.
I’m not even going to get into my love of hospice now, that will be for a different post as I know most people’s reaction to hospice, is really? Ugh. How depressing. Just know it is not for me. Besides being in an area of nursing I have a great interest in, the job is perfect. I am getting paid more, I get many weeks off every year, and my schedule, while on the surface seems odd, especially for me, is wonderful. I will be working 1pm-10pm. This means I get all morning with Cameron, his favorite time of day. He will then go to his grandmother’s house for a few short hours until John picks him up and they get all evening together. The true secret to my happiness is the fact that I am able to do a lot of work from home. I will have two cases a day, and I can do a lot of the paperwork part of the job on the computer at home. So while the hours seem terrible, they couldn’t work out better for us.
There have been a couple of other changes in preparation for the job change over, but I’ll save those for later.
Just wanted people to know we were all still here and doing o.k.
Posted by Lily on Jan 25, 2009 in
parenting,
tidbits Lily: John, where’s the cereal?
John: What do you mean?
L: Where’s the cereal?
J: In the cupboard. I put it away.
L: No. You didn’t. There is no cereal here.
J: I swear I put it away!
L: I swear it’s not here.
J: -pause-
J: Um. Check the fridge.
L: Yup. Right here next to the milk.
Posted by Lily on Jan 2, 2009 in
parenting I have been thinking a lot about the last year. I’m not a big New Years person. I don’t do resolutions or have grand sweeping visions of what the new year will bring. In general my hopes are that things will be o.k. Everyone I love will be healthy and relatively happy by the time the next year roles around. That in itself can be a tall task in my family, but it is what I hope for in the New Year.
Last year at this time, I was recovering from pneumonia. Wickedly awful pneumonia. We also had just purchased a new car because after a trip home to NC we realized our old one was not big enough for two dogs, two humans, and a bunch of stuff. Let alone if there were ever to be a third human thrown into the mix. Little did we know how quickly after the purchase of the new car that third human would be thrown in. I don’t think we even had our permanent plates yet.
Bogey came into existence. It was great. First trimester wasn’t so bad. Overwhelming fatigue, a little queasiness here and there and I was certainly ready to welcome trimester number two, but the first could have been a lot worse. Second trimester was awesome. Rocked it. Third trimester was great, although by the end the hormones were starting to kick in and I was ready for that guy to be out. Luckily he obliged and arrived early.
It was like hitting a brick wall at 190mph. My world was shaken. Kind of like an Etch A Sketch. Every little thing meticulously planned out and arranged, erased into a pile of sand.
Last year, if we wanted to go to a movie, we went to a movie.
Last year, if we needed dish soap, we ran out to the store and grabbed some.
Last year, if we wanted to stay in bed all day and watch mindless television and eat food, we did.
This year, we have to plan. Because we can’t just run to the grocery store. When was he fed? When did he last nap? Why don’t one of us just stay home. O.k. but who and if it isn’t the boob lady, then is there thawed milk?
A movie? Ha!
Staying in bed all day? John had to get a 102 degree fever to pull that off. And he can’t even do it guilt free as I glare daggers at him every time I decide to throw Tylenol at him.
I should have seen this coming. None of these things are surprising, I knew about them all. But knowing about such drastic changes in your life doesn’t necessarily make them any easier once they are staring you in the face. Even if you’ve had years of preparation.
Part of what makes it hard to see is that it is all sort of gradual. You don’t realize how much your life has changed because one little piece gets eaten up here. One there. And if you step back and look at it, you realize you haven’t seen a movie in a year. But you weren’t waking up everyday thinking man, I haven’t seen a movie in a year.
Since Christmas I’ve seen two movies. The first one due to the kindness of my family who watched Cameron for us allowing John and I to slip out and have two hours to ourselves. O.k. there was a little prodding by everyone to get me out and no one could have pried the cell phone that was encased by my hand during the movie. But we saw one.
Yesterday I went out and saw another one. This time, John’s mom was taking care of Cameron so they can get acclimated to each other as she will be providing child care for us once I return to work. Monday. That’s another post.
As I sat in the theater (John at home fighting off the plague), I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I went out and did ANYTHING by myself. I used to be independent. I did lots of things by myself. I’d go to a bookstore. Go get some tea. Just be by myself. And while I was pregnant I would do things alone, you’re not alone. It is wonderful because you always have this little person with you and it was amazing. But I was definitely not alone.
Yesterday was great.
When I look back to when John and I first moved in together, I think of all the great things we did. We’d run off to the beach for the weekend or watch endless episodes of 24. I had two part time jobs I loved that allowed me the greatest flexibility I’ve ever had in my work life. There is a temptation to always compare ourselves to who we were then. But if we did, we would go insane. We will never be those people again. Our lives have progressed to something different.
11 weeks ago, I cried everyday. I couldn’t get out of bed due to the pain. I felt overwhelmed, underprepared, and wholly inadequate. If I compare myself today to who I was then, I’m awesome. I can eat three meals a day, shower, and get dressed without crying, and without a significant amount of pain. And generally, while taking care of my son at the same time.
It is all in the perspective. Comparing ourselves to who we were five or ten years ago is o.k. to remember who we were, but not very effective at measuring who we are now. All we will find is that we are inadequate measured up to the past. Who we were a week or a month ago might be more realistic. Or maybe we shouldn’t compare ourselves at all. Where are we now, and what can we do to make it a good day.
I’m still just at the beginning. But I am learning that perhaps the fastest and easiest way to reclaiming some of my independence is to accept help from all of those people around me offering it.
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Posted by Lily on Dec 8, 2008 in
Cameron,
parenting In a recent post there was a comment by my friend Kristen about bonding with your baby. It is a subject that I have found to be an important part of my adventures as a new mom. Someone had once said to Kristen that it had taken awhile for her (the friend) to fall in love with the baby because she (the baby) had caused her so much pain. I did not find that to be the case with me, because honestly I think I did not associate him with the pain due to the epidural. By the time it wore off he had long since departed that region of my body to become permanently affixed to another, higher up part. 
However, the issue of immediate bonding was one I struggled with. I had heard from other moms that it doesn’t always happen, so I was trying to set myself up that I might not immediately feel that rush of love and bonding with this new being as the bluebirds sang and the clouds parted and the sunbeams hit us just right, basking us in warm radiance. But I figured it would still be an incredible feeling having this little baby who I’d gotten to know over the last nine months snuggle up with me as he tried to take in this new crazy world around him. I didn’t get that chance though, because he was taken so quickly from me and didn’t return for a few hours.
By the time he was brought back to me in the hospital, the epidural was wearing off and so began the three weeks of Lily saying hi to baby and then as soon as he needed something other than food, Reed or John or my mom taking him as I could not move. I’d say in the first week or so I didn’t really notice this and it didn’t really bother me because I was in so much pain and so exhausted that I can barely remember where I was, let alone that I had a child I was responsible for.
As the weeks progressed however, I became aware that I really wasn’t getting to spend much time with him. Sure, I got to nurse him, but I was unable to maneuver out of bed very well and definitely could not wander around with him or bounce him or dance with him, things he loved and that calmed him down.
John was an expert at these things. John could quiet Cameron faster and better than anyone. And this was fine with me. How wonderful for a dad to get to bond so much with his newborn. The midwife had also suggested we introduce a bottle (with breast milk) early so that John could take over a feeding or two at night allowing me to get some sleep and help in my recovery. Cameron took it like a pro and John did a wonderful job. All of these were lifesavers from my perspective.
Until about three weeks in.
This is when John went back to work.
The first day John left, Cameron screamed for an hour. There was nothing I could do to calm him. He eventually relented, but it was a tenuous day. Before John got home Cameron started screaming. Again. And there was nothing I could do to calm him. Again. John came home, I threw the baby at him, and the baby stopped crying. Instantly.
It was then that it hit me I hadn’t really bonded with him. I loved him, don’t get me wrong, but I could see there was a bond John had with him that I did not. And that I didn’t have much of a bond at all.
Then one morning, I was sitting there with him in bed propped up on my knees and he looked in my eyes and smiled. Then cooed a little. He pretty much laid there transfixed, staring at me. And it happened. I can’t describe the feeling. Kristen also said there are some things about motherhood that only mothers understand. This is one of those things. It was the most wonderful feeling and like that, I felt bonded. I would throw myself under any train/car/bus/monster for him. I would easily trade my life for his. I could spend the rest of my days just looking at him. The bluebirds sang, the clouds parted, the sunbeams hit us just right basking us in warm radiance.
Exactly one week later he spent the entire day crying piercing cries of agony created solely for the purpose of slowly destroying my brain. If I could have left him in the fenced yard with the dogs for the day I would have.
It was a good experience. I realized that first of all it was o.k. not to bond with him immediately. He actually didn’t grow horns or start spitting fire. He hasn’t even been arrested yet. It just took some time. And that even when I feel like I finally did bond with him, it doesn’t mean I have to adore him all the time. He is going to do things that will test me. We haven’t even gotten to toddlerhood or adolescence yet.
He and I are going to be o.k. He knows who I am. He smiles when he hears my voice. I (sometimes) know exactly what little thing to do to change him from screaming maniac into cooing smiles. And he in turn knows how to change me from tearing my hair out mad woman to woman madly in love with her son.
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Posted by Lily on Dec 5, 2008 in
parenting,
tidbits Conversation in bed last night:
Lily: Dude. It totally worked. He is passed out.
John: Wow. It’s like he’s been hypnotized.
L (to Cameron): You will now bark like a chicken.
J: Really? Bark like a chicken? Not, ’you will now sleep for 8 hours.’ I thought your choice would be whether to request 8 hours or 15. He’s hypnotized, you could choose ANYTHING to have him do, and you chose bark like a chicken. Chickens don’t even bark. What’s wrong with you.
L: What do chickens do?
J: Ummm…I don’t know. Cock-a-doodle-do?
L: That’s a rooster. What’s wrong with you?
J: Would you rather have financial stability the rest of your life or grapes? I’m Lily. Hmmm. What kind of grapes?
L: My answer reflects my sleep deprivation. Leave me alone.
J: A million dollars or $1.75? $1.75 thanks!
L: Well, are the quarters extra shiny?
J: Yeah, and the Alaskan quarters are worth 25.2 cents.
L: Go to sleep.
J: Afghanistan attacked us, let’s declare war on Iraq.
L: That’s it. The last eight years have been run by sleep deprivation. Cluck. That’s what chickens do. They cluck.
Posted by Lily on Nov 18, 2008 in
Cameron,
parenting We all know that the phrase “Slept Like A Baby” is a load of bull as a baby sleeps for only two hours at a time, maybe three if you’re lucky, maybe four if you have reached some level of parenthood utopia I shall never know. I have found in the past five weeks that pretty much all the other baby ideals out there aren’t real either.
“Awwww. So cute! Newborns are easy; they just sleep, eat, and poop.”
Details left out:
Yes, they are cute. Until they get that horrible acne rash all over their face. And then you’re scared as to whether you gave them leprosy or whether they picked up some unknown fungal infection that has been festering in your uterus for your whole life and now, when mixed with air, your child has become a biological weapon. Truth be told, it hasn’t been that bad. Cameron had a few days of bumps, but they’ve subsided so they can be replaced with the gouges he likes to take out of his chubby cheeks with his claw nails I’m too scared to trim.
There is nothing easy about a newborn. Maybe there is with a second newborn if you’ve already done it once, but the first time is not easy. Sleeping consists of maybe two hour chunks. During which you are convinced they’re going to stop breathing or choke or somehow manage to wrap the power cord in the other room around their neck if you close your eyes for more than 30 seconds. Every grunt, whimper, sniffle, shift, yawn, breath-wakes you up. Well, wakes mom up. Dad seems to somehow have gotten over that one pretty quickly. This is probably good because if both of us were as sleep deprived as I’m becoming I’m pretty sure we’d be sending the dogs out to grocery shop.
Eating isn’t simple. It’s not like they wake up and say “good morning mother. I feel just the slightest twinge of hunger. If it is not too much of an inconvenience do you think you could whip one of those boobs out so I may feel better? Why thank you.” And follow it with a gentle suckle at the breast. No. He wakes up out of a dead sleep and SHRIEKS as if I have never fed him before and due to that lack of nutrition his stomach is currently digesting all of his internal organs. In order to stop this internal digestion he MUST EAT WITHIN 10 seconds or we have to find him new organs. To meet that speedy time goal he must violently lash around like a fish out of water until his extremely round, heavy head comes crashing against my breast and his jaws clamp down. He then starts sucking as if the milk actually comes from my toes so you have to give it that extra power suck to go against gravity and get it out. Repeat in two hours.
Pooping. An event that seems relatively easy, yet to see my child do it, you would SWEAR he actually is reenacting his own birth. It starts as a whimper, escalates to a squeal, and then becomes a full fledged wailing grunt. This can go on for a surprisingly long time. His face will turn various shades of red, blue, and purple and then all of a sudden there is an explosion. An explosion that can be heard across the house, a fact proven when my sister was staying here. She came to check on us because she’d heard an explosion and wanted to make sure the other half of the house was still standing. In fact it was, as was John, who had been the victim of this particular explosion. As you can imagine when something with that much force behind it is released, it becomes a projectile weapon. So if that diaper’s not on watch out. I think John’s bruises are beginning to heal.
I love my baby, don’t get me wrong. All of these things I’m sure will someday seem endearing. And then they will disappear from my head so that I too will tell people how cute and easy newborns are.
Posted by Lily on Nov 14, 2008 in
Birth,
parenting This is actually a follow-up post to The Epic Birth Story. It is an Epic Follow-Up. John pointed out that I didn’t actually talk about what we learned from that whole experience and that was one of the most important aspects of the birth. So here are two of the most important things we learned.
Advocacy
I’m a nurse. I’ve worked in hospitals. My family has had our fair share of hospitalizations, illnesses, and injuries. I consider myself a well-informed, knowledgeable, educated advocate in my own health care. However, looking back at the birth, we realized there were a lot of times we should have been stronger advocates with what was going on.
One of the biggest problems was that I was never in a position to advocate for myself. By the time I got to the hospital, I was feeling o.k., but all of my focus was going into the labor. This was our first experience with this so we didn’t know what to expect. John was in no place to be able to determine what should or should not be happening. We were so thrown by the first midwife’s lack of attention that we didn’t think to ask for more.
For John, that lack of attention is something he feels strongly about. In the future, if the midwife is too busy to spend time with us, we need a different care provider, even if it is an MD. This is something that I know at the time I would not have wanted, but looking back, it would have been helpful. Our midwife had multiple complicated cases going on and when prioritizing, we were low on the list. I was a woman who had an uncomplicated pregnancy, with perfect fetus positioning, and came into the hospital laboring well and fairly far along. Therefore it seemed like we didn’t need much attention. Honestly we didn’t, but we did need someone to listen to me and notice when he flipped his head and was now OP, causing excruciating back labor.
For me, there was so much psychological damage done by the point the other midwife got there I was at a point of no return. Also, the second midwife assumed certain basic assessments (such as where his head was) had been done by the first midwife, as I’d been there for many, many hours. The second midwife did those assessments, but not right away because there wasn’t a need. UNLESS THE FIRST MIDWIFE HADN’T DONE THEM.
Medication
This is a topic I feel I could write a thesis on. Going into this birth, I was very pro natural childbirth. I think home births are a wonderful idea, but we decided based on our proximity to our hospital of choice and the fact it was our first child we would forgo that option this time around. I saw medication as a very black and white issue and I think this is often how it is presented. You either had a medicated birth, or you had a natural childbirth. And while everyone says either is o.k. and the midwives were supportive of either route, I have always felt there was a stigma to medicated births. I know I definitely had one. When I envisioned my labor, medication was to be used basically if I failed. If I just couldn’t do it.
Honestly, pretty much that is what happened when I chose the epidural. I had failed. I physically and mentally could not continue laboring. It wasn’t an emergency, the baby was not in distress, I just couldn’t do it. At that point we did not know about his presentation, but that doesn’t matter. The fact is I broke down and begged for an epidural. At the time, both the midwife and Angel Nurse sat down with me and had me focus on them and expressed their belief it was the right decision and in no way a failure. I remember agreeing but inside thinking, yeah, right, this is what you tell everyone. It wasn’t until Angel Nurse sat down with me a second time and impressed upon me that I wasn’t a failure, it wasn’t a wussy decision, it was a necessary one. She pointed out that I was in a hospital and they had drugs and they were there for a reason . Yes, some people chose to use them the whole time, but that in other circumstances, they are used because they have to be. Everybody wants to get the baby out and have mom and baby be o.k. That requires medication sometimes.
Why was I so hesitant to go to the drugs? Why was everyone so hesitant to give them to me? What was I worried about? Did it make me less of a woman? A mother? Would my birth story be exciting until the moment until I say I had an epidural? Oh, one of those women, people would say. While it was nice to find out I wasn’t crazy and his presentation had changed and that the epidural turned out to be absolutely necessary, I think it is important for me to explain to people that I made the choice for the epidural before I knew about his presentation. I made it when the only reason to have it was because I couldn’t relax, was beyond exhausted, could not tolerate the pain any longer, and it was not an absolute medical necessity. I wanted it.
And I loved it. I can’t believe I didn’t get it sooner. It was wonderful for all the obvious pain relief reasons, but there was one other reason. That reason was that I was able to experience and enjoy the entrance of my son into the world. It was still incredibly hard work, don’t get me wrong. And in a lot of ways an epidural makes it harder because your ability to push is kind of limited when you can’t really feel below your waist. But I could enjoy it. I was able to be present and be an active participant in everything going on for his actual birth. There is a lot of labor that is a blur, but from the moment the epidural went in I remember everything incredibly clearly. I remember when the midwives first felt his head and then when they saw it and then when everyone else saw it and then when John got to deliver him and by that point, I had enough feeling back (without the pain) that I got to feel his delivery. Minus the subsequent explosion. I would not trade that for anything. And if a woman wants to be able to have that clarity and enjoyment for all of her labor, I no longer have any deep down judgements for her.
My mom (who had two completely natural, unmedicated births) and I were discussing this the other day and she made the observation that we’d think someone had lost their mind if they said well, I need my appendix out, but I’m not going to have any pain medication, I’m going to do it naturally. So why is it we harbor such negative feelings for women who choose to have pain medication for one of the most painful experiences a person can go through? I know not everyone has such feelings, but I think many people do, whether they realize it or not.
I am absolutely still pro natural childbirth, but I now look at pain medication during childbirth as a continuum. There are varying levels of pain medication and varying times it can be given. Will I automatically get an epidural at the moment I go into labor if I have any more children? No, I really don’t think I will. Will I get one later on during the labor? Absolutely, depending on how the labor is progressing. I might not need it, but if I feel I do, I will get it way sooner than I did this time.
I’m not sure why we feel we must be stoic. Martyrs for the childbirth cause. There is way too much to worry about and to be stoic about once the baby is here. The real work and exhaustion doesn’t begin until then anyway.
Posted by Lily on Oct 7, 2008 in
parenting,
pregnancy Failure. It finally happened. Not only was I not the best in childbirth class, but I actually failed. I was the worst. I fully admit it. I got the first “F”. How is this possible, you say? How would someone with such amazing childbirth class pedigree fail??? Pretty simple, as it turned out.
Tonight was the hospital tour. Upon further reflection, we probably should have just skipped this one as I am terrified of hospitals and they cause my anxiety level to skyrocket at the mere mention of them. I thought that seeing a labor and delivery room and the postpartum area would make me feel better. Fear of the unknown and all that. Wrong.
We go up there and are informed that all of the L&D rooms are full tonight. They are over capacity. We can’t see one of them. This brings up a question I had never thought of: What happens if they are full when I go into labor? John asked this for me as I had already turned in on myself and was in a ball on the floor, similar to an armadillo before it gets run over by a car. Oh, the instructor says, they put you in a regular hospital room. That’s what they’ve been doing tonight.
This may not seem like a big deal, except for the fact that there are a few differences between the two rooms. A few BIG differences for midwife patients. The bed? In a normal hospital room, it is a normal hospital bed. No ability to maneuver it to sit up, to take it apart so it is more like a birthing chair, no ability to really change positions for the actual birth. The room is at least half the size, not nearly the freedom of movement in the room or ability to use things such as birthing balls. Then there is the shower. Not meant for a laboring woman. Not as big, no chair, no movable shower head that can be used to massage the back. Few differences there.
Then she started talking about the baby. And the two hours here and there they would take him for bathing or an assessment or, or, or. It was at this point I began focusing on not running out of the room screaming and barricading myself in my house until after Bogey goes to college. I figured if I did that they would admit me to the hospital immediately and my biggest problem would not be what bed I would be in, but whether or not I would be strapped to that bed in a white coat.
As she finished talking about everything, I turned to John and told him I had to go. Go to the conference room where the next part of class is going to take place, he asked? Um, no. I. HAVE. TO. GO. Out of the hospital, he asked? He didn’t really need me to answer as he saw my wild eyed look frantically searching out the exit signs.
We left the hospital, John threw me (by this point in tears) in the car, and decided to stop by Baskin Robbins as a treat. They were out of Mint Chocolate Chip. Until that moment, I would have sworn to you that Baskin Robbins couldn’t run out of Mint Chocolate Chip. Or if they did, the store would be closed. No Mint Chocolate Chip? An impossibility. That is their signature flavor. I told John just to take me home so I could revert back to the curled up ball and pretend the evening didn’t happen after I washed off the hospital smell that leapt on me as we walked through the doors. He decided to take me to Target instead and we loaded up on Ice Cream Sundae makings. It was a pretty effective move. It at least got me home and out of the car. He didn’t even have to wrestle the keys from me so I didn’t drive back to NC.
Perhaps I’m not quite ready for Bogey to get here. Perhaps I need some quick therapy to get over my hospital anxieties. Perhaps I need to focus my energy on what I can control opposed to what I cannot.
It wasn’t a completely wasted evening though. I rode in an elevator twice tonight. With multiple pregnant women in the elevator with me. That is tempting fate. That is laughing at fate. But I did it. Without passing out, without screaming, without going into labor, without scaring all the other women to the point of inducing their labor. And while not enough to redeem my failure in class, I think it was a sign of progress in my fragile psyche.
Posted by Lily on Sep 12, 2008 in
parenting My midwife called me today and left a message on my cell as I was in with a patient. I hear her on the phone and my brain immediately starts racing. We are rotating through the midwives right now so we can meet all the possible people who might deliver Bogey so I haven’t actually talked to my midwife for a few weeks.
I immediately begin to panic. Sheer panic. What horrible thing is wrong with my baby. Something so horrible she has to call me on Friday when my next appointment is only on Tuesday. My brain, not being what it once was is going through every possibility. I have HIV. Bogey has CF. I have gestational diabetes. My blood pressure is too high, I’m preeclamptic. The cord is around Bogey’s neck. He’s not growing right. He’s going to be early.
Later, as I reflected upon the phone call, I think that last one was my favorite IMPOSSIBLE worry to have. He’s going to be early. There is literally no way that my midwife, who hasn’t seen me in well over a month, could tell that he was going to be early.
I call her back and find out that she wanted to talk to me because everything has been going so well. She is also an instructor for Nurse Midwifery students and she has a new class this fall and she wanted to see if I could come in for one of her classes. She is going to teach them how to determine the position of the baby by palpation and how to find the heartbeat, all that good stuff. She said due to my so far uncomplicated pregnancy and how cooperative Bogey has been in his prenatal visits with positioning and measuring and heartbeat she thought we’d be perfect for new students.
I told her no problem. In fact, there really isn’t even much need for palpation because if you just look the right way at my abdomen I’m pretty sure you can actually see him making faces through my uterus. And count every individual toe as they push through my ribs. With his rabbit heartbeat, they will also barely need to touch the doppler to my stomach. My kid’s a superstar.
I’m hoping he’ll get some sort of certificate of participation I can take to childbirth class, because I’m pretty sure this makes him a shoe-in for winner of the second day of childbirth class.
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