She's adorable, but not as cute as the new baby. Sorry Do.
Our first photoJason has been telling me since the beginning that I was going to have this baby the day of the Baltimore Comic Con and he actually meant the twenty-eighth (the day he planned to go). Still, technically he wasn't wrong since the convention lasted two days!
My Braxton Hicks had been coming daily and increasing in severity for most of the week, but I knew it wasn't labor. Labor wasn't crampy feeling. It was more like a pinch. A few times on Friday my Braxton Hicks felt like that, but it soon went away.
Saturday morning Jason and Heather took River to the Comic Con and I had the entire morning to myself which was just plain odd. I worked out, ate like a pig (I'd been so so hungry the last few days. Mostly for sweets! The same things happened before my labor with River!), finished my book (was determined to do so before the baby was born as it was a new release from the library and I knew I wouldn't be able to renew it come Friday when it was due), wrote a bit, and then watched a movie. On one of my many bathroom breaks I noticed that my stomach had dropped even more. I texted Jason and told him that maybe today was the day.
Jason and River returned, River asleep. I went into the bedroom to take my own nap. Glad I went and listened to my body's needs because that extra hour would be one of the few I was able to sleep for the next 24!
I took River to the pool before dinner and watched him swim. Then we finished watching the series, Avatar: The Last Airbender (yet another thing I wanted to do before the baby arrived!). Before going to bed I did some extra chores. I had this feeling I might go into labor and wanted everything done. I went to bed early (9:00ish) having some Braxton Hicks. Normal, so I didn't think a thing of it. The "contractions" were waking me up now and then. I was dozing. By 11:30, when River came into our bed, I was too uncomfortable to sleep. I told Jason I thought maybe I was in labor but to sleep and I'd wake him when I was sure. I told River that tonight might be the night mommy and daddy went to the hospital.
I got up and timed my contractions, read about early labor, packed last minute things, put the hospital bag by the door, and wrote a letter to River on his dry erase board for Heather to read to him in the morning. Even though I was afraid I'd be wrong, I knew in my gut that it was time to have the baby. The contractions were there laying down or standing up. Though the space between them was longer when I lay down. If I squatted they were more intense and I could "make" one come up sooner. They were the same "pinch" type feeling of my last labor in my lower belly, but this time I had back labor too. So the ache radiated in my lower back and my front. I would spend my contractions rubbing my lower back--that helped. I felt tired, but also restless.
I took River to the pool before dinner and watched him swim. Then we finished watching the series, Avatar: The Last Airbender (yet another thing I wanted to do before the baby arrived!). Before going to bed I did some extra chores. I had this feeling I might go into labor and wanted everything done. I went to bed early (9:00ish) having some Braxton Hicks. Normal, so I didn't think a thing of it. The "contractions" were waking me up now and then. I was dozing. By 11:30, when River came into our bed, I was too uncomfortable to sleep. I told Jason I thought maybe I was in labor but to sleep and I'd wake him when I was sure. I told River that tonight might be the night mommy and daddy went to the hospital.
I got up and timed my contractions, read about early labor, packed last minute things, put the hospital bag by the door, and wrote a letter to River on his dry erase board for Heather to read to him in the morning. Even though I was afraid I'd be wrong, I knew in my gut that it was time to have the baby. The contractions were there laying down or standing up. Though the space between them was longer when I lay down. If I squatted they were more intense and I could "make" one come up sooner. They were the same "pinch" type feeling of my last labor in my lower belly, but this time I had back labor too. So the ache radiated in my lower back and my front. I would spend my contractions rubbing my lower back--that helped. I felt tired, but also restless.
Twenty minutes after Jason lay down to sleep, I woke him up. I was sure and I wanted company. I made sure to eat something and then paced around. I was most comfortable walking during the contractions at that point. If I laid down and then got up the contraction was more painful. Painful enough to stop me in my tracks and rock bent over whatever piece of furniture I was closest to. I tried to move during the pains to keep the baby moving down. If I was going to hurt, I wanted it all over fast!
Every time I peed I would have what I called 'a toilet contraction' caused by the position. My goal was to try to keep moving and an empty bladder to speed everything along. I had Jason download a labor ap on his phone so we could time my contractions that way.
At 1:00 I asked Jason to call Heather. The three of us hung out until around 3:30 timing my contractions which were never consistent--ever. (same as with River) They hurt enough that I had to bend over the back of the sofa and breathe through them and rock. It was the pain level that made me feel like it the shit was going to hit the fan soon and never the timing of the contractions (a big reason we stayed home way too long with River was my inconsistent contractions!) I knew I had to get to the hospital to get the antibiotics for strep b. So I debated going...or not. Should I? Was it time? Yes? But...the timing on the contractions...
I said I'd wait to 4:00 to see if my contractions would ever meet the 6-1-1 rule (six or less minutes apart, lasting one minute in duration for one hour) and then call the midwife whether they did or not. But by 3:45 my gut said I needed to call the midwife. Jason called and we waited for her to return the call. She did rather quickly, remembering how I said I'd only gotten to the hospital with 55 minutes to spare when River was born. I explained how everything was going and she told me to come in--she would call the hospital for us.
There were no cars on the road. No traffic. We got stuck at the long light and I unbuckled my seat belt to turn around on my knees and have a contraction. At the hospital we got a great spot and walked into the dead quite birthing center. It was so nice to be admitted without being in excruciating agony or rushed by the speed of my labor. I felt relaxed and very happy. We went to the triage room, I changed, peed in the cup, and was put in the bed to have my contractions and baby's heartbeat monitored, answer some more questions and have my IV put in. When the nurse checked to see how far I was dilated, we were both thrilled to hear I was 7cm, fully effaced, and -1 station. I had been 7cm when I arrived at the hospital with River and went from 7 to 10 in a matter of 10 minutes.
That wasn't happening this time. Maybe 7 is the spot my body gets stuck for a bit. I chose to walk to labor and delivery over taking the wheelchair. I hate sitting during labor. Moving helps. I wanted to move. I turned down sitting on the bed. I'd have to get in now and then to be monitored, but could move around the rest of the time. I had my IV hooked to antibiotics. They did burn and make my arm ache because of the speed at which they had to be put in to make sure I got the full dose--but overall--not bad.
Soon that was done. The midwife checked me during a contraction which was very uncomfortable. I was 8cm. I wanted to get in the tub. I spent the worse part of my labor before the end in this massive spa-like tub filling with water as hot as I could get it. The sound of the water was soothing and the heat, but being in there actually sped up my labor. The contractions were bad enough that I was starting to dread them and fear them. I would grip the pole above my head and sorta squat/kneel and rock through the contractions. I liked to tap my fingers or rub my face during the pain. I started thinking of Bryan to help me get through them. I was chilly and thirsty, but all I could have was ice chips. I would make deep humming/moan sounds during the pain and that helped too. I felt in control still.
I knew I was entering transition when I started to need to hold Jason's hand and I couldn't think because of the pain of the contractions. Between then I felt hot and groggy like I was a little tipsy. So when the midwife and nurse came to check, I agreed that it was time to get out. I was being toweled off and dressed in the hospital robe but my mind was really locked into my body and the pain and when the next pain would come. I needed Jason's hand.
I was put into bed for more monitoring and to check my dilation. I was still 8cm and my water had yet to break (It broke at home with River). The midwife informed me that she would break my water at 9cm and get things really moving. The contractions were bad enough that I would grip the bed, moan, and toss my head side to side during them. I was calling myself crazy for not getting drugs and stupid to do this again and swearing never to have more children. The nurse wiped my face with a cool cloth that felt wonderful. The midwife check me again (it was horrible because she would only do it during contractions). I was 9cm and she went about breaking my water. That in-itself was no more painful than her checking my dilation. Bad news, merconium (baby poop) was in the fluid so I would not be able to hold the baby right away. Not that I really cared at that point. The pain was horrible.
Soon, everyone told me. Soon. I was feeling some pressure, than more pressure, and then I was pushing against my will. Mind you, on my back. I was just too tired at that point to want to do anything else. Pushing on my own was sickening. I felt like I was going to vomit. It passed and the midwife said I was ready to go. They could already see the baby's head.
The room filled with people, plastic was laid down, the midwife put on this long sleeved robe. My legs were yanked up, stirrups up, butt slid down. "I can't" I protested and the contraction was barreling over me and I was pushing hard, moaning, grunting,yelling out "It's hurts!" and "Get her out of me!" I hardly had a break, a breathe and the midwife telling me to hold my legs (check) and keep my chin to my chest. Later Jason told me he grabbed my left leg and pushed my head down with his other hand. Everyone is yelling "Push!" and "She's right there!" Jason told me I could have her out with one more push. I wanted it to end and gave it everything I had.
I can't explain pushing to you. It's a horrible, odd feeling. With River pushing didn't hurt and took forty minutes with spaced out contractions. My body stopped pushing as soon as they put me on my back. But with Sage pushing felt uncontrollable--like when you vomit. It couldn't be stopped. I had no break between contractions. Crowning didn't hurt nearly as much as it did with River. There was the burn, but it didn't stop me. I pushed through it and her head was out. A pause and here Jason said the cord was around her neck and removed. It all flowed very quickly. Out came her shoulders and then the hot gushing release of the rest of her body. She was crying, gone, waving arms and legs in the warmer with people all around her. I was so so tired and shocked, trembling and moaning through the massage and everything else that followed.
Jason stayed with me the entire time which was such a comfort because at that point I just wanted to curl around my pain and be left alone. But the midwife had to deliver the placenta, I had to be massaged, and then there was the numbing needle and two little stitches. A superficial tear that didn't even need to be stitched but the midwife thought it would be more comfortable for me if she did it so I wouldn't pee into the cut. LOL
Finally, I could sit up and hold my baby. I put her on my breast right away and got her latched. She was so small! So much smaller than River and her head so round because she came out so quickly! I was so happy. So proud of Jason and I.
The birth was amazing. I didn't feel like I had a baby at all. I wasn't swollen. I could walk, sit, and get up and down by myself. I stopped using the ice packs the next day even though I had many left. I can't even compare it to how bad I hurt after River. It was so different this time. No hemorrhoids and I hadn't even shit myself during labor! Lucky me!
The worse pain was the cramps.. The midwife warned me that the cramping would be worse this time because my uterus isn't all strong from having River. It's true. The cramps were like contractions. Also, blood clots. I had huge gelatinous blood clots the day after. Not painful, just weird. Didn't have those with River. And the bleeding is so much lighter this time around. Also, my milk started coming in the next day which made Sage happy enough to sleep well the second night.
When I saw the midwife twenty-four hours later, she complemented Jason and I. She said she had never had such an upbeat couple. We joked, laughed and spoke between contractions to the very end and kept such a positive attitude.
I feel blessed by this pregnancy, this labor, and my tiny peanut of a daughter.
Every time I peed I would have what I called 'a toilet contraction' caused by the position. My goal was to try to keep moving and an empty bladder to speed everything along. I had Jason download a labor ap on his phone so we could time my contractions that way.
At 1:00 I asked Jason to call Heather. The three of us hung out until around 3:30 timing my contractions which were never consistent--ever. (same as with River) They hurt enough that I had to bend over the back of the sofa and breathe through them and rock. It was the pain level that made me feel like it the shit was going to hit the fan soon and never the timing of the contractions (a big reason we stayed home way too long with River was my inconsistent contractions!) I knew I had to get to the hospital to get the antibiotics for strep b. So I debated going...or not. Should I? Was it time? Yes? But...the timing on the contractions...
I said I'd wait to 4:00 to see if my contractions would ever meet the 6-1-1 rule (six or less minutes apart, lasting one minute in duration for one hour) and then call the midwife whether they did or not. But by 3:45 my gut said I needed to call the midwife. Jason called and we waited for her to return the call. She did rather quickly, remembering how I said I'd only gotten to the hospital with 55 minutes to spare when River was born. I explained how everything was going and she told me to come in--she would call the hospital for us.
There were no cars on the road. No traffic. We got stuck at the long light and I unbuckled my seat belt to turn around on my knees and have a contraction. At the hospital we got a great spot and walked into the dead quite birthing center. It was so nice to be admitted without being in excruciating agony or rushed by the speed of my labor. I felt relaxed and very happy. We went to the triage room, I changed, peed in the cup, and was put in the bed to have my contractions and baby's heartbeat monitored, answer some more questions and have my IV put in. When the nurse checked to see how far I was dilated, we were both thrilled to hear I was 7cm, fully effaced, and -1 station. I had been 7cm when I arrived at the hospital with River and went from 7 to 10 in a matter of 10 minutes.
That wasn't happening this time. Maybe 7 is the spot my body gets stuck for a bit. I chose to walk to labor and delivery over taking the wheelchair. I hate sitting during labor. Moving helps. I wanted to move. I turned down sitting on the bed. I'd have to get in now and then to be monitored, but could move around the rest of the time. I had my IV hooked to antibiotics. They did burn and make my arm ache because of the speed at which they had to be put in to make sure I got the full dose--but overall--not bad.
Soon that was done. The midwife checked me during a contraction which was very uncomfortable. I was 8cm. I wanted to get in the tub. I spent the worse part of my labor before the end in this massive spa-like tub filling with water as hot as I could get it. The sound of the water was soothing and the heat, but being in there actually sped up my labor. The contractions were bad enough that I was starting to dread them and fear them. I would grip the pole above my head and sorta squat/kneel and rock through the contractions. I liked to tap my fingers or rub my face during the pain. I started thinking of Bryan to help me get through them. I was chilly and thirsty, but all I could have was ice chips. I would make deep humming/moan sounds during the pain and that helped too. I felt in control still.
I knew I was entering transition when I started to need to hold Jason's hand and I couldn't think because of the pain of the contractions. Between then I felt hot and groggy like I was a little tipsy. So when the midwife and nurse came to check, I agreed that it was time to get out. I was being toweled off and dressed in the hospital robe but my mind was really locked into my body and the pain and when the next pain would come. I needed Jason's hand.
I was put into bed for more monitoring and to check my dilation. I was still 8cm and my water had yet to break (It broke at home with River). The midwife informed me that she would break my water at 9cm and get things really moving. The contractions were bad enough that I would grip the bed, moan, and toss my head side to side during them. I was calling myself crazy for not getting drugs and stupid to do this again and swearing never to have more children. The nurse wiped my face with a cool cloth that felt wonderful. The midwife check me again (it was horrible because she would only do it during contractions). I was 9cm and she went about breaking my water. That in-itself was no more painful than her checking my dilation. Bad news, merconium (baby poop) was in the fluid so I would not be able to hold the baby right away. Not that I really cared at that point. The pain was horrible.
Soon, everyone told me. Soon. I was feeling some pressure, than more pressure, and then I was pushing against my will. Mind you, on my back. I was just too tired at that point to want to do anything else. Pushing on my own was sickening. I felt like I was going to vomit. It passed and the midwife said I was ready to go. They could already see the baby's head.
The room filled with people, plastic was laid down, the midwife put on this long sleeved robe. My legs were yanked up, stirrups up, butt slid down. "I can't" I protested and the contraction was barreling over me and I was pushing hard, moaning, grunting,yelling out "It's hurts!" and "Get her out of me!" I hardly had a break, a breathe and the midwife telling me to hold my legs (check) and keep my chin to my chest. Later Jason told me he grabbed my left leg and pushed my head down with his other hand. Everyone is yelling "Push!" and "She's right there!" Jason told me I could have her out with one more push. I wanted it to end and gave it everything I had.
I can't explain pushing to you. It's a horrible, odd feeling. With River pushing didn't hurt and took forty minutes with spaced out contractions. My body stopped pushing as soon as they put me on my back. But with Sage pushing felt uncontrollable--like when you vomit. It couldn't be stopped. I had no break between contractions. Crowning didn't hurt nearly as much as it did with River. There was the burn, but it didn't stop me. I pushed through it and her head was out. A pause and here Jason said the cord was around her neck and removed. It all flowed very quickly. Out came her shoulders and then the hot gushing release of the rest of her body. She was crying, gone, waving arms and legs in the warmer with people all around her. I was so so tired and shocked, trembling and moaning through the massage and everything else that followed.
Jason stayed with me the entire time which was such a comfort because at that point I just wanted to curl around my pain and be left alone. But the midwife had to deliver the placenta, I had to be massaged, and then there was the numbing needle and two little stitches. A superficial tear that didn't even need to be stitched but the midwife thought it would be more comfortable for me if she did it so I wouldn't pee into the cut. LOL
Finally, I could sit up and hold my baby. I put her on my breast right away and got her latched. She was so small! So much smaller than River and her head so round because she came out so quickly! I was so happy. So proud of Jason and I.
The birth was amazing. I didn't feel like I had a baby at all. I wasn't swollen. I could walk, sit, and get up and down by myself. I stopped using the ice packs the next day even though I had many left. I can't even compare it to how bad I hurt after River. It was so different this time. No hemorrhoids and I hadn't even shit myself during labor! Lucky me!
The worse pain was the cramps.. The midwife warned me that the cramping would be worse this time because my uterus isn't all strong from having River. It's true. The cramps were like contractions. Also, blood clots. I had huge gelatinous blood clots the day after. Not painful, just weird. Didn't have those with River. And the bleeding is so much lighter this time around. Also, my milk started coming in the next day which made Sage happy enough to sleep well the second night.
When I saw the midwife twenty-four hours later, she complemented Jason and I. She said she had never had such an upbeat couple. We joked, laughed and spoke between contractions to the very end and kept such a positive attitude.
I feel blessed by this pregnancy, this labor, and my tiny peanut of a daughter.
This week's recommendation is also an awesome novel, but I recently picked up the comic version and reintroduced myself to the story. It's a lovely mixture of a typical fantasy story (young boy must complete task/coming of age/monsters/magic) and horror that I so love about King's dip into the Fantasy genre.
Either version you choose, you'll be sure to enjoy it.
Her stats: 6lbs and 2oz. 19 1/2 inches. She is a peanut. Turns out the midwifes were right all along--she's no where near the size of her brother. River was 7lbs 8oz and 20inches. Thank you for being a peanut, baby girl. It made for an easy (in hindsight anyway) labor!
She has black hair (not red like River and she has far less hair overall than River had) and her eyes look like they will be darker than his too. I also think her skin will be a bit darker. There is a sibling resemblance. She adorable, of course.
Her full name is Sage Nirvana. Nirvana is in honor of my brother Bryan. It was his favorite band. His room/apartment were/was covered with Nirvana posters and he owned all their albums--including bootlegs. I think he'd approve.
Forgive the late posting. If I have a moment today with two hands free, I will gladly write up the birth story in all it's gory detail. I'll get it out...eventually. But for now, my children are my focus. Ah, children. So wonderful.
There is nothing better in this world than my babies. I am a very happy mother. In fact, these days following Sage's birth might be the happiest in my life. I feel completed.
(written the day before Sage was born)
Dear Bryan,
When I heard you had died I was eight weeks pregnant--at the peak of how sick I would feel. It was a typical morning. I blogged, I played with River. I had no idea you were dead. I didn't sense a thing. My mind couldn't have gone there. I had just laid down to take a nap with River when Jason came home and walked into the bedroom. I could tell by his face that something was wrong and beneath my alarm I was seriously annoyed that he couldn't have just waited until I woke up. I was so tired. So sick. At first I guessed he had lost his job. My stomach dropped to my toes.
He was crying. He said, "No, it's much worse than that." I knew then, "Someone died!" and I didn't think it was you. When Jason told me I was lost for a moment. Saying things I wasn't aware I was saying, rocking, clutching my toes with my knees to my chest.
He was crying. He said, "No, it's much worse than that." I knew then, "Someone died!" and I didn't think it was you. When Jason told me I was lost for a moment. Saying things I wasn't aware I was saying, rocking, clutching my toes with my knees to my chest.
I know what I wanted to do then. I wanted to sleep all day and not talk to anyone, but in moments like that I don't think people generally have the liberty to do what they'd like to. Instead I wondered around in a fog making phone calls, speaking randomly like I was drunk, packing, not eating, trying to make myself eat. Heather came by at some point and I wonder what it was like to watch someone in the state of shock I was in. I remember when my dear friend's mother died. I wasn't there right away, but Jason and I stayed with her before and after the funeral. It was like seeing her strangely all together, but reeling. If I looked in her eyes, I could see she was a little bit crazy with it. That's how I felt. Somehow holding it all together but really just plan crazy. I felt horribly, physically ill from being pregnant at the same time.
But in moments when we need to keep our shit together, I think most people do amazingly well. You don't know how hard you can push yourself until life collapses beneath your feet.
But in moments when we need to keep our shit together, I think most people do amazingly well. You don't know how hard you can push yourself until life collapses beneath your feet.
I think I got three hours of sleep that night and then got up the next day to drive all the way to New York solo with River going 80mph the entire time. I didn't want to speed too badly but I knew if I got pulled over--the raw grief in my face and easy to flow tears would probably get me out of any ticket.
When I got there mom had been arranging photos of you into about a billion frames for collages. I was incredibly drained, but started arranging all these photos. The ones I'd brought up first. Then all the others. It was easy. I knew just where to set each photo. I quickly got that done. My hidden talent--arranging photos into collages. Somehow still keeping an eye on my son and doing it well enough that he was his normal, cheerful self. All having known you were dead for just less than 48 hours.
I guess I am shocked by how when the most horrible happens people still find the strength to function, to get through it, to even move. The following weeks are a blur. I know I walked around feeling as if everyone could see my hurt in my face. That being social was a challenge because I was so raw inside. I cried often, I yelled, and raged. When spring came round, I started to feel better. Grief had become a part of who I was. I had to live with it.
Bryan, your birthday is coming up and once again my pregnancy is getting in the way! I want to donate money to a local animal shelter since you were always taking in and feeding stray cats. That means I'd like to take River to visit there to see the animals we'll be helping. And it's hard to remember to do that, to find the time to do it, to remember that your birthday this coming Saturday when all these days stretch in front of me as possibilities for my daughter to be born. It doesn't seem fair to you--that my life catches me up. That I can feel happy and distracted and excited and thankful when you aren't hear to experience any of those things. I sat in the rocker on the porch, hands folded over my belly (your niece) and told Jason, "The closer it gets to the end of this pregnancy, the more sad I am that Bryan isn't here."
Life goes on without you in it. It seems horribly wrong. You would have been twenty-six on the fourth. Maybe baby girl will come tomorrow (indeed she did), maybe she will come on your birthday, maybe she will come after. But every year we will think of your birthday should have-beens and my daughter's increasing age. She will change, you will always remain the same.
Happy Birthday little brother.
Once you puked up soda and spaghetti all over the kitchen floor. Mom was always pissed when you were going to be sick. You never even tried to make it to the toilet. You would just heave over wherever you were, ignore her frantic yelling, and vomit all over. It was vile.
Once you puked up soda and spaghetti all over the kitchen floor. Mom was always pissed when you were going to be sick. You never even tried to make it to the toilet. You would just heave over wherever you were, ignore her frantic yelling, and vomit all over. It was vile.
You also would cry when you had to swallow pills. Our mom would have to crush it up in jelly. You drove me nuts always carrying on about everything--much more quick to tears than I was. Dude, Bryan just stop freak'in crying.
Together we helped our cat, Gypsy, give birth to her first litter of kittens. She yowled after that first baby came out and ran away, diving under your bed. You cursed and dove after her leaving me watching a kitten squirming in it's sack. I tore the sack open, you returned Gypsy to her birthing box. Together we watched two more babies be born.
Happy Birthday, Bryan.
I can't believe I have to grow older without you.
Love,
Sissy
Together we helped our cat, Gypsy, give birth to her first litter of kittens. She yowled after that first baby came out and ran away, diving under your bed. You cursed and dove after her leaving me watching a kitten squirming in it's sack. I tore the sack open, you returned Gypsy to her birthing box. Together we watched two more babies be born.
Happy Birthday, Bryan.
I can't believe I have to grow older without you.
Love,
Sissy
I gave River my camera and he proceeded to take photos of Do Baby. She's totally like, 'what the hell is the small human doing? Should I run? Remain here? But this is MY room...'
The toddler, meanwhile, is chanting that he is taking photos of Do-bee (as he calls her).
I guess he is more interested in the abstract.
Or close ups of his finger?
The toddler, meanwhile, is chanting that he is taking photos of Do-bee (as he calls her).
I guess he is more interested in the abstract.Or close ups of his finger?Or maybe mommy's butt?
The real appeal was basically just in pushing the button.
I'm thinking my belly is much smaller this pregnancy!
I had a midwife appointment on Tuesday and brought River along for once. Mostly because he has had doctor's office induced anxiety in the past and I wanted to warm him up to the idea of mommy receiving medical attention before his visit to the hospital. I was also hoping it would get him excited about the baby and further develop some idea of where (although it won't be there) I would be going when the baby was born and what it would be like.
He still kept asking, "We're not going for me? We're going for you?" as if to be sure I wasn't tricking him with the surprise being a big, painful needle in the thigh.
Once there he was excited. Mainly because the nurses and receptionists were fawning all over him and I'd brought books and toy cars for us to amuse ourselves with as we waited. He was witness to me peeing in a cup and my explanations as to why I had to weren't the best. How do you explain that a nurse has to look at your pee pee? When asked if he had to make a pee pee, he said "I don't want to pee in a cup." I then had to explain that only mommy had to do that.
We went in the room and waited. When I dared to get off the table he got up and led me back. "Mommy, you have to wait there for your check-up." Shesh, okay pushy. I gave him a lollypop and told him to stay seated. He was wonderfully, well behaved. The midwife commented that he spoke extremely well for his age. My response? Yeah, he never stops talking!
River enjoyed going with me so much that he didn't want to leave. I think I will bring he along next week as well.
38 weeks (and 5 days) pregnant with River. Taken while I was IN LABOR. I had retained so much water I could not wear my rings and my toes looked like sausages. None of that so far this pregnancy.
*
I have two possible midwives that can deliver the baby girl. Usually I see cranky midwife and she's often cranky because of the issues we've had with my insurance. Like it taking six weeks for them to send her my medical records and they failed to send my first ultrasound results, totally sent the second solo, and then failed to send the third. I suspect she thinks I'm not doing the job on my end. Little does she know--or believe--that I make the needed phone calls the day of my appointments with her or the next day--latest. Or the fact that I have started writing everything down since yes, communication with my insurance is shitty. I even had the courtesy to call her office and leave a message telling her where my insurance was ALLOWING me to have my last ultrasound that she requested. I didn't have to do that. She, by the way, never received that message.
*head to wall*
This entire pregnancy, with me as the middleman between two hospitals/offices/professionals has been such a headache. A headache we are paying a $250 deductible for, might I add. Had I stuck with the OB and hospital my insurance wanted me to go to (had I not demanded the referral my insurance offered to see the midwifes at the smaller hospital) it would have been completely covered by my insurance. I feel like I am being punished for daring to go elsewhere.
The other midwife, that I have seen twice, is much nicer. I hope she delivers the baby girl because cranky midwife always makes me feel uneasy. Nice midwife makes me cheerful and positive. Cranky midwife is like, "Well, they might have told you that the baby is fine, but I don't know that--because--I-do-not-have-you-ultrasound-results." Her once very kind smile looks entirely strained every time she walks in the room now.
Great, she must be thinking, the woman with the stupid fucking insurance.
I just feel uneasy picturing someone with a strained smile, barely keeping steam from pouring out her ears, with her hands in my vagina.
"But I left all that information at the place I went to. Your name. The address here. The fax."
"Where is this place?"
(as if I went to some hut in the woods for a supposed "ultrasound")
*I explain*
"I have no idea where that is!"
"Well, that is where I went. That is the only place my insurance would let me go."
"When was this again?"
*I explain* "Look, I will email the OB, give her your fax number again, and ask her to send it over to you just like last time. They must have sent her the results because she had to send the referral"
*a curl of steam escapes the midwife's ear.*
Scary...
* turns out the place I had the ultrasound didn't send out my results to ANYONE. I either have bad luck with shit like this or medical facilities suck.
*
After that small mess, River was excited to hear his sister's heartbeat. Everything was done pretty quickly. Despite the ultrasound tech's estimate two weeks ago that the baby was about 6.4lbs, the midwife insisted that baby girl is nowhere near the size River was when he was born. (I'd like to believe her, thanks) Even though she should have gained a pound between the ultrasound and today..making her about 7.4 and River was 7.8 at delivery. That seems pretty damn close to me. Which would likely be more accurate? Hands? Machines? Neither? (HANDS! HANDS! HANDS! COME ON 6. SOMETHING POUND BABY!)
Only sour news is I am positive for Strep B-- a bacteria that could be harmful to the baby after birth. Solution, I will have to have iv antibiotics administered during labor. So I should get to the hospital sooner rather than later. It will take about 20 minutes. Not , too too bad. I mean, it's sorta nice to have an excuse to get to the hospital at a reasonable time instead of starting to push out a child fifteen minutes after having been admitted with my amniotic fluid soaked underwear laying on the floor and the camera left in the car...
O, and I gained two pounds putting me at 139 1/2 which is, so far, 19 1/2 pounds gained for this pregnancy. Still way below the awe inspiring FORTY FIVE MOTHERING FUCKING POUNDS of my pregnancy with River.
Feeling much better than last week. Small Braxton Hicks now and again. I don't feel like I will give birth soon because I feel too good. But we'll see. Maybe I just felt like shit my last pregnancy because I was SO INCREDIBLY FAT.
If I deliver the same time as I did with River, I should give birth Monday. I don't think this is likely. I don't know what is likely! Some time soonish surely, but when? Eh, who knows.
Could this be my last weekly pregnancy photo? My gut says, no way. I think I'll get at least one more in!
I never got around the reading this children's series when I was a child. I don't know how it slipped by me, especially since I was obsessed with The Lord of The Rings (4th grade) and The Chronicles of Narnia (5th grade). If this had been tossed to me around that time I would have adored it too.
Sadly, as an adult, I wasn't much into these books. A little too predictable for someone who saturates themselves in fantasy. It's not like Harry Potter which I loved as an adult or even the crack-like Twilight series (total young adult novel crap, but still somehow entirely engrossing--I'm ashamed to say.)
Still, this series is one I can recommend to the young fantasy novel fan in your life.
I can't describe to someone to feeling that comes over me when I look at my son. A feeling that lives inside my body every instance. I know other parents can understand.
A mixture of wonder that I was part in creating this little human being, that I nurture him each day, that he can possibly be and always will be my son.
There is pride. Pride that this little person who once could do nothing more than nurse at my breast and sleep curled in my arms now can go on amusement park rides by himself, tell me his opinion, create games, form sentences...and so forth.
Love--pure, raw, overpowering.
Joy that grows from his joy.
Happiness outside myself.
Satisfaction from his discoveries.
The cherry on this pie of feeling is an overwhelming sense of thankfulness for the opportunity to be a mother and his mother is particular.
It completely baffles me how my life moved to this moment, these days and how it will move further around yet another person. It doesn't seem possible. I'm over my guilt at kicking River off the only child chair. I've become accustomed to the idea of another baby but I haven't yet felt the love I feel for my son, for the daughter I have yet to meet. I know I will and it seems like my body can't possibly contain that much affection.
I imagine two children wedged into this banana plane and I wonder what I did to deserve such a gift as my babies. I knew I always wanted to be a mother. I had no idea it would be this good.
My pregnancy has made me thankful for River in a new way. I look back on my time carrying him inside my body and the two plus years of raising him--all the ways he has grown and I have grown because of him. Time runs too fast. It races away. He'll be a man before I know it. We'll both have been effected by our years rotating each other, but he won't know how much until he holds his own son or daughter in his arms.
I feel as if I have been melted down, reforged, made anew by motherhood. It consumes me and I think that is the way it has to be for me. I'm made better because of it.
To think too far ahead makes me dizzy. I try to live day to day, marveling at our little triumphs and skipping over the tedium and frustrations. Life is too short. Already, another chapter for River and I is almost ended. It won't just be the two of us, just as it hasn't just been Jason and I since a December evening during a brutal ice storm.
I'm looking forward to the next phase of our lives when our family increases again, by one.
A mixture of wonder that I was part in creating this little human being, that I nurture him each day, that he can possibly be and always will be my son.
There is pride. Pride that this little person who once could do nothing more than nurse at my breast and sleep curled in my arms now can go on amusement park rides by himself, tell me his opinion, create games, form sentences...and so forth.
Love--pure, raw, overpowering.
Joy that grows from his joy.
Happiness outside myself.
Satisfaction from his discoveries.
The cherry on this pie of feeling is an overwhelming sense of thankfulness for the opportunity to be a mother and his mother is particular.
It completely baffles me how my life moved to this moment, these days and how it will move further around yet another person. It doesn't seem possible. I'm over my guilt at kicking River off the only child chair. I've become accustomed to the idea of another baby but I haven't yet felt the love I feel for my son, for the daughter I have yet to meet. I know I will and it seems like my body can't possibly contain that much affection. I imagine two children wedged into this banana plane and I wonder what I did to deserve such a gift as my babies. I knew I always wanted to be a mother. I had no idea it would be this good. My pregnancy has made me thankful for River in a new way. I look back on my time carrying him inside my body and the two plus years of raising him--all the ways he has grown and I have grown because of him. Time runs too fast. It races away. He'll be a man before I know it. We'll both have been effected by our years rotating each other, but he won't know how much until he holds his own son or daughter in his arms.
I feel as if I have been melted down, reforged, made anew by motherhood. It consumes me and I think that is the way it has to be for me. I'm made better because of it.
To think too far ahead makes me dizzy. I try to live day to day, marveling at our little triumphs and skipping over the tedium and frustrations. Life is too short. Already, another chapter for River and I is almost ended. It won't just be the two of us, just as it hasn't just been Jason and I since a December evening during a brutal ice storm.
I'm looking forward to the next phase of our lives when our family increases again, by one.
Dear Bryan,
On Thursday night I dreamed of you for the second time since you died. In the first dream, months and months ago, you were telling me to talk to our father. Something you would had said when you were living too. I was telling you that you didn't know all the horrible shit he had done since you died. You didn't know you were dead and I was sorry to bring it up. Still, you told me again to talk to our father. We were sitting on a bus having this conversation--a school bus.
I don't put much stock in dreams, except as self expression. So, I don't think you were really telling me to talk to our father. I think maybe this time you would have shrugged your shoulders and let me be as stubborn as the man who is responsible for half our genetics (the half responsible for our stubbornness too, might I add. So, it's his own damn fault.) But I knew I was dealing with my own guilt. Should I? Shouldn't I? What was right? What was wrong? What would you think of everything that blew up in our faces while we were grieving your death?
In this second dream, our mom, my friends Amanda and Karen, and I had found some way to visit you in the place your consciousness went when you died. My sleeping brain wasn't too clear on where exactly that was. (blame the bulk of this on having seen Inception a few weeks ago) When we first got there, to you, I told you that you were dead and what had happened since you died. Mom got mad and somehow we took that knowledge away from you. I know we had a limited amount of time to visit with you and Mom wanted us to all spend it celebrating our memories of you and being happy. But towards the end, pieces of your death were cropping up--bits of twisted metal buried in the driveway of the houses we used to live in (the one of the corner of 302 and Blackhawk).
We were upstairs in the attic in front of the double windows. We were going to paint your best memories on the slanted ceiling to remind you of us when we were gone. The paints were named things about you. We were missing some and Amanda and Karen rushed out to find them for us. Mom was crying because our time was almost done and I'd slipped up and mentioned how you were dead.
"Oh, yeah." you said. You'd remembered and your nose started to bleed, you look depressed, you took up a needle and shot it into your arm. Mom was, by this time, hysterical.
I took you by your shoulders and looked at mom and back to you and said, "Would you both listen to me? Listen to me for once. I'm always right about things like this."
You both waited.
"Bryan, you might be dead, but you are in heaven. This is heaven. It's nirvana."
Your eyes lit up. You looked around as if seeing everything new.
"It's like a dream that never ends here. You can make it anything you want. Time will pass quickly and one day, we'll be here with you always. You can do anything here."
"I can fly?" you asked, excited.
"I guess so."
You jumped up, thrilled and jumped out the open window. You didn't fly but you weren't hurt.
"Maybe it takes practice?" I shouted down to you. "I mean, you've never actually flown before."
But you weren't really listening. You were jumping higher and higher, closer and closer to flying. You were blissfully, perfectly happy.
I woke up then, smiling.
Love,
Sissy
On Thursday night I dreamed of you for the second time since you died. In the first dream, months and months ago, you were telling me to talk to our father. Something you would had said when you were living too. I was telling you that you didn't know all the horrible shit he had done since you died. You didn't know you were dead and I was sorry to bring it up. Still, you told me again to talk to our father. We were sitting on a bus having this conversation--a school bus.
I don't put much stock in dreams, except as self expression. So, I don't think you were really telling me to talk to our father. I think maybe this time you would have shrugged your shoulders and let me be as stubborn as the man who is responsible for half our genetics (the half responsible for our stubbornness too, might I add. So, it's his own damn fault.) But I knew I was dealing with my own guilt. Should I? Shouldn't I? What was right? What was wrong? What would you think of everything that blew up in our faces while we were grieving your death?
In this second dream, our mom, my friends Amanda and Karen, and I had found some way to visit you in the place your consciousness went when you died. My sleeping brain wasn't too clear on where exactly that was. (blame the bulk of this on having seen Inception a few weeks ago) When we first got there, to you, I told you that you were dead and what had happened since you died. Mom got mad and somehow we took that knowledge away from you. I know we had a limited amount of time to visit with you and Mom wanted us to all spend it celebrating our memories of you and being happy. But towards the end, pieces of your death were cropping up--bits of twisted metal buried in the driveway of the houses we used to live in (the one of the corner of 302 and Blackhawk).
We were upstairs in the attic in front of the double windows. We were going to paint your best memories on the slanted ceiling to remind you of us when we were gone. The paints were named things about you. We were missing some and Amanda and Karen rushed out to find them for us. Mom was crying because our time was almost done and I'd slipped up and mentioned how you were dead.
"Oh, yeah." you said. You'd remembered and your nose started to bleed, you look depressed, you took up a needle and shot it into your arm. Mom was, by this time, hysterical.
I took you by your shoulders and looked at mom and back to you and said, "Would you both listen to me? Listen to me for once. I'm always right about things like this."
You both waited.
"Bryan, you might be dead, but you are in heaven. This is heaven. It's nirvana."
Your eyes lit up. You looked around as if seeing everything new.
"It's like a dream that never ends here. You can make it anything you want. Time will pass quickly and one day, we'll be here with you always. You can do anything here."
"I can fly?" you asked, excited.
"I guess so."
You jumped up, thrilled and jumped out the open window. You didn't fly but you weren't hurt.
"Maybe it takes practice?" I shouted down to you. "I mean, you've never actually flown before."
But you weren't really listening. You were jumping higher and higher, closer and closer to flying. You were blissfully, perfectly happy.
I woke up then, smiling.
Love,
Sissy
