Sticky Bun's 11 1/2 weeks

Video by The Man:

How cute is she?

My little girl. What a gift. I think God knew what I could handle and gave me one of the easiest going babies ever. I feel blessed. Sure, I wake up in the middle of the night, and my schedule is dictated by her but I get to look at THIS.
So, to quote her auntie, "How cute is she? Sooooooo cute."
Merry Christmas, baby girl.

After Birth

I wrote a post all about the details of my experience after SB was born. And I realized that it could be discouraging to those, like myself, who have concerns about labor and delivery. Or misconstrued as extremely negative.

I love my baby with all my heart. She is AMAZING and yes, I believe she is THE BEST BABY in the entire world :) But I wish someone had sat me down and told me, "You may not have the Hallmark experience most moms talk about. You may be extremely terrified of your baby at first and not want to hold her. And that's OK." Then again, maybe I would have looked at the person like they had three legs and tell them to step back.

It's a tricky thing. When I was nine months pregnant, I didn't want to hear anything negative because I was already scared about the labor and delivery, I didn't need to think of what would happen when I took the baby home! I just wanted to hear how well I was handling the pregnancy (at least, to others) and how excited people were for me. I recently had a conversation with a mom who reminded me that she had, indeed, told me how hard a baby could be. She said, "Don't you remember? I told you it was going to be really really hard. And I told you that I personally thought the infant stage sucked and it was the part of having a child that was the toughest for me. Remember?" That's right. She DID say that! And then I remembered thinking, "What the HELL is wrong with her?! I don't want to hear that right now. I'm PREGNANT!"

Well, perhaps the delivery of her message lacked finesse. Or tact. But she was right. She had tried to warn me.

Most moms who I talked to throughout my pregnancy told me how wonderful it was going to be for me. They made me feel like I was joining an elite group. That being a mommy would be the best thing in the whole wide world. And I'm grateful for them saying that to me because, being all big and emotional, it's what I needed to hear. There is, though, this other part that I didn't really know about.

The first week after giving birth, I think I was still stunned from surgery and a bit loopy from pain medication. The second and third weeks were extremely difficult. I definitely did NOT have Hallmark moments with Sticky Bun. I cried every day, sometimes several times a day. I would wake up, look at my baby in her co-sleeper, and be terrified that she would wake up and start crying. And when she would cry, I would feel bad that I couldn't soothe her. Like I had let her down and every time it proved I wasn't meant to be a mom. I was more than happy to let my sister, mom, husband or anyone close to me hold her because they would probably do a better job.

Another horrible hormonal mind f*ck (because, really, I don't know what else to call it) I had was that I truly and honestly thought that my marriage was doomed. I sincerely believed that we were on our way to getting a divorce because how would it ever survive my crying and sleep deprivation? I was convinced that the love of my life would eventually leave me. It didn't help that I hardly saw my husband because his work shift changed right after I gave birth and he was now working from 3pm to 12am.

I could go on and on about the depressing things I thought. But I won't. That is in the other entry I wrote. And I'm keeping that entry so I never forget. IF I decide to have another child, I want to remember what I had gone through before to prove that it really does get better, even though, at the time it doesn't feel like it will. I also want to read that entry when I'm trying to decide if we should try again to have another:) I don't want to forget anything and I want to make the best decision possible when that time comes around again. I guess I could say I want to make an informed decision.

I am so glad that things eventually got better. One weekend, I stopped crying. And I didn't want to get too excited because I wasn't sure if my hormones would go out of wack again. But, thankfully, they didn't. I was able to think positively and I was able to see and believe that The Man was in it for the long haul. I realized that I should take the help my mom was offering and that it didn't mean that I was an awful mom by doing so. I was able to enjoy time with my baby.

I feel so bad for mommies that get the Baby Blues (what I had) or Post Partum Depression. Because you always hear how being a mommy is the best thing that could ever happen to a woman. And when you don't have those feelings that you're supposed to feel a week after taking home your baby, you feel GUILTY, freakish, and question what the hell is wrong with you. In addition to feeling like you have no skills to protect let alone mother your baby. And then all the feelings you have outside of having a baby, like marriage and self image. At least, that's how I felt with Baby Blues. I can't even imagine going through PPD.

My point? Since I'm sort of drilling in the despression over and over again. Don't be dismayed if you end up having these feelings. Don't be afraid or ashamed to seek help. I didn't want to talk to anyone about it but my Sister convinced me to go to a Mommy group. And to also talk to my OB-GYN. My doc, in turn, asked that I talk to a psychologist. Yes, by the time I saw her, things were much better. But if I had PPD, then I could have received counseling and/or medication.

Also, sympathize with new mommies. Don't judge her because her baby is in an ugly, mis-matched outfit. And missing a sock. Or she's in that mommy sweats outfit looking a bit sloppy. And her hair looks like hell. As long as she and her baby looks healthy, kudos to her. Because it is true - nothing rocks your world harder than having a baby. They have either just have their vaginas ripped to shreds or had their womb (skin & muscle) cut open and innards taken out and then put back in. For sure their hormontes are raging. And THEN they're given this baby that needs so much all the time. Yes, motherhood is beautiful. I truly believe that. But it is also one of the hardest things if not THE hardest thing a woman has to go through because it's a challenging process that starts with 10 months and then the really hard work begins. But I hear it's pretty rewarding ... and nine weeks into it, I agree.

Birth Story Part III

It has been nearly seven weeks since I delivered Sticky Bun and my memories are fading. I had better write down what I remember before I forget. And, yes, I totally have baby brain. My vocabulary has significantly decreased and I talk like English isn't my first language. How sad that it's not only my first but my only.
I wondered if I should even write this all down because, from what I understand, women are programmed to forget all the trauma. Evidently, when my baby becomes a toddler, some part of my brain is going activate fire alarm blasts and scream at me, "You want another baby! You NEED another baby!" But I've gone this far so why not write the rest?

Sometime after 7:00am, I was prepped and ready to go to the O.R. The Man would join me shortly after he changed into scrubs. I was scared but thank goodness the epidural was strong. I really didn't feel much down there. I said goodbye to my mom and Patti. The plan was that the hubby would stay with me until Sticky Bun was out. Once SB left the O.R., as long as she was healthy, The Man would stay with her while my doula would then come into the O.R. and stay with me until I was done.

A mention about my mom. I didn't know if she would be around when I gave birth. My dad and she planned to attend a wedding in New York a week before I was due. I also knew that she wasn't big on the Natural Birth route so those two factors had made me want to seek out a doula. Well, she surprised me by being really calm and respecting my decisions ... although I know she thought it was INSANE that I didn't want the epidural right away. But I wasn't sure how she would handle me (or at least, parts of me) being inside out so I stuck with the original plan of having the doula there after The Man left.

I don't remember what I was thinking while I was being rolled into the O.R. I know I was scared. I'm the type of gal that looks away when my blood is being drawn. I don't faint but I sure as heck don't want to see the process.

There were a lot of people in the O.R. They were all friendly and calm because this wasn't an emergency C-Section. It was just unplanned ... for me. I asked if there would be a cover so I wouldn't see the surgery. Please tell me that the separator wasn't just on TV shows!!! Dr. Stephens assured me that there was a big sheet that went up, separating me from the operation. I was glad. I didn't want The Man to see the operation either. I know some of you will not agree but I can't help it. There is a certain modesty I have and while I have exchanged vows with him and he is my very bestest friend in the whole wide world, I did NOT want him to see my innards. What if he could never get that image out of his head? So much for intimacy. Perhaps it is completely irrational of me but how could he ever think I was sexy after that? It just felt like that would be too much. If I didn't want to see myself all cut up, I sure as heck didn't want someone I love (my husband, my mom, my dad ... anyone) to see me like that.

The sheet separator was no joke. They erected (and yes, erected is the perfect word) this huge sheet wall near my head. I couldn't see anything or anyone on the other side of it. A new anaesthesiologist introduced himself to me and said he was going to numb me so I wouldn't feel a thing. He wasn't, however, going to make me drowsy because he didn't want the baby drowsy. I was glad he said that because I did want my baby to be alert. I had learned that this would help the baby latch more easily than if she was drowsy from drugs.

After a few moments, Dr. Stephens said that they were ready. I was a bit out of it but I panicked. My husband was still not in the room. It was hard to talk by then but I spoke up and asked them to please wait for my husband. Where was my husband? One of the staff said that he was coming soon. In the meantime, Dr. Stephens said they were going to do a test to make sure I couldn't feel anything.

"Do you feel this?"

"No."

"Do you feel this?"

"No."

"Do you feel this?"

"Yes. Yes! I feel that!"

I will never forget how terrified I was that I could feel that pinch. Because I swear Dr. Stephens was ready to cut me open.

The anaesthesiologist even sounded surprised when he asked, "You really felt that?"

"Yes! It's on my right side. I felt that pinch! I felt it. I felt it!"

The anaesthesiologist said, "Let's wait a few moments." My doula later told me that the anaesthesiologist gave me more drugs and numbed further up my body because I had felt that pinch on my right side. I didn't mind, though, because I was petrified at the thought of being able to feel my C-section procedure. The one adverse reaction that made things difficult for me was I couldn't breathe. When I was prepped, I was given oxygen through the nose. Once they had numbed more parts of my body, I found it truly difficult to breathe. I was gasping, trying to suck in as much air as possible but couldn't. The staff didn't seem concerned so I guess I was getting enough oxygen but it certainly didn't feel like it.

I asked one of the nurses if I could change to an oxygen mask. They changed it for me but it was still incredibly difficult to breathe. It felt like they were going to start and still no husband. I was so relieved when I heard him enter the room. The Man asked me how I was doing and, for the life of me, I can't remember my answer. I do recall that once Dr. Stephens started and I could feel a tugging sensation, I felt sick and wanted to be distracted. I told him to talk about something. Anything. Just to talk so I could focus on something else. No, I don't remember what he was saying. I remember trying to ignore the tugging. I don't know if it was her pulling back my skin or if it was my insides being pulled out but there was a constant tugging feel and I hated it. I know The Man and I were trying to carry on a insignificant conversation.

Then we all heard a small baby cry. Almost like a kitten. I don't know who said it but I heard, "Congratulations! That's your baby girl. And look at all that hair!"

At 7:32am, that was when The Man had The Moment. The very moment that the almost ten months led us up to, that the entire night led us up to, the very moment he realized that the cry we had heard was our daughter. And I'm so happy for him that he had this moment. And I'm fine that I didn't. I was too doped up and trying too hard to breathe to have The Moment. I remember saying something to The Man like,

"Did you hear her? That's our daughter crying."

Then one of the nurses told him to cut the umbilical cord. He got up and was able to see her first. When he returned, I asked him how she looked and I'm pretty sure he said beautiful. He later told me that he almost cried, he was so happy. And for the rest of my life I will be glad that he had that moment.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Ahh, the official kick off holiday to Christmas season! Love it!
I've been meaning to finish the Birth Story but it takes time. And I realize that the second entry in that little series sounded bitter. Well, it wasn't horrible but it definitely wasn't the most fun I've had. So I want to be in a really positive state when I write the ending. I also had some post partum blues that I want to write about because it's something not a lot of mommies talk/write about.
I want to also write about Sticky Bun. She is getting quite a personality and she makes me laugh, even in the middle of the night when I'm tired. She has so many quirky noises and looks. She recently started giving me this "What you talkin' about, Willis?" look and I have no idea where it came from! She also has these facial expressions when she's pooping. I don't really need those faces to tell, though, because I can HEAR her poop. It's like her butt is percolating but instead of coffee, it's poop. And I'm waiting, well, we're ALL waiting, to see a real smile. Because I think it will be beautiful.
Anyway, those are the things that are in my head but want to write down. But that will all have to wait. Because I need to seize the day (or this moment) and take the opportunity to take a shower.
Happy Thanksgiving, my dear small group of blog friends! It's hard to believe that we've been reading each other for YEARS. And it's one of the things I'm thankful for ... I love you guys!

Birth Story Part II

My parents were the first to arrive at the hospital. To give The Man credit, he was the one who called my parents, then our doula and then ran all over the house to pack everything that I hadn't included in my bag- The Office DVDs, The IT Crowd DVDs, DVD player, pita chips and I don't know what else but enough to fill two backpacks in addition to the one that I pre-packed.

I was lying in bed in my own hospital suite (thank goodness for the small miracle that my Kaiser has single rooms) when my parents walked in. My mom said in a sympathetic voice, "Hiiii Baby ..." and I broke down crying. My poor dad didn't know what to do with himself as my mom came over, enveloped me in a hug and said, "I know, this isn't how you planned it to be, is it?" And I just cried. My dad patted my leg. I don't think I was crying because I was disappointed in how things were turning out. I was scared out of my mind. I thought I had a week! It was my first day of maternity leave, for crap's sake! I thought when it was my time to labor, I would be in the house or somewhere nearby when I would feel contractions. Instead, I was a measly one centimeter dilated and given less than 24 hours to go into active labor or they were going to do it for me. Damn.

Oh, the doctor who admitted me, Dr. Fogarty, had finally asked me if I had eaten. I guess I could have told a nurse or doctor earlier but I hadn’t. So I told him no and he promised he would get me a real meal (not some stupid popsicle, chicken broth or something else on the water diet.) While it wasn't delicious, I finally got to eat around 6:00pm. It was some sort of bland cafeteria-looking food so thank goodness The Man intended to bring me pita chips.

He arrived shortly after my parents armed with all the backpacks. I had gotten out all my tears with my mom so I wasn't a sobbing mess when he entered the room. He didn't know what to do after kissing me and giving me a hug so he unpacked the three bags. My doula arrived soon after. Small world, Patti actually knew Dr. Fogarty and he told her that because I had preeclampsia, they needed to be very careful with my labor and delivery. He wanted to monitor my blood pressure and make sure the baby was out in a reasonable amount of time.

Dr. Fogarty came into my room soon after my doula arrived to discuss his plan. He wanted start off trying to induce my labor by breaking my bag of waters first with the hope that it would start contractions. If that was not enough to get the labor started, he then wanted to start pitocin. He said I was already dilated to two centimeters at this point and my cervix was soft which was promising. I told him that I needed some time to talk to The Man and my doula.

After he left the room, I asked my doula, Patti, what she thought about everything he said. She told me that having preeclampsia was not something to really mess around with and the baby did need to be delivered sooner than later but there were some things we could do to help get it going naturally. She said that breaking the bag of waters was a less invasive way to start and then we could get up and walk around and so some acupressure work to help move things along. Guess there was no way around it. I was going to have the contraption that looked like an effin' crochet hook.

Dr. Fogarty came back and said he wanted the nurse to get an IV started before he broke my water. A few words about the IV. Mary, my nurse, came in about 7:30 p.m. to start the IV. I really liked Mary - she was pleasant and encouraged me to ask lots of questions, especially to the doctors. But she couldn't start an IV for the life of her. At least, on me. From the get go, the needle hurt like a mother effer. She said that this was normal (it’s not) and that if I iced it, it would get better. Like hell it did. But I'll get back to that.

Dr. Fogarty returned at 7:56 p.m. to break my water. From what I understand, you're not supposed to feel pain. I know I was freaked out because, well, the apparatus really does look like a super long crochet hook. Imagine that going up your hooha. And I remember feeling pain. It certainly was incredibly uncomfortable. And afterwards, it was non-stop flowing warm fluid coming from me. That was a very weird sensation because it seriously was non-stop. It flowed for a while and then subsided. But I would shift in bed and would feel a lot more warm fluid come out. I coughed, more warm fluid. Heaven help me whenever I needed to get up and use the bathroom. I thought I was going to make a mess through the humongous pads they gave me. And they actually had me wearing TWO at a time. (Now that I think about, why didn't they just give me an adult diaper?) And every time I got up, I hated looking at the pad on the bed. It was always filled w/ clear fluid and blood. I know I shouldn't have been embarrassed but I was.

Back to the IV. It still hurt like a bitch. I thought that this was normal because I'm a weenie. But Patti said, no, you shouldn't be feeling it. She encouraged me to tell Nurse Mary so I did. After going through three ice packs, I finally requested for it to be moved due to the pain. It was about 8:10 p.m by this time. My doula gave me a foot massage and worked on some acupressure points that were supposed to help with going into active labor while we waited for the other nurse to come in to change the IV. It was a nice distraction. The Man asked me if I wanted to watch episodes of The Office and I definitely wanted as many distractions as possible so I said yes. Patti didn't tell me then but she told me later that she noticed on the monitor that I was having contractions, but they were very mild because I didn't really feel them.

At 9:05 p.m., a new doctor named Dr. Stephens introduced herself and let me know she would be taking over for Dr. Fogarty. She then explained that she wanted to start pitocin if my contractions didn’t get into a regular pattern within 2 hours of having her water broken. This meant she would actually want to start pitocin in just an hour, at 10:00pm, because my water was broken around 8:00pm.

From the books and the classes my husband and I took, I feel like we were taught to fear pitocin. Because once the pitocin came, stronger-than-ever-contractions would come and then I would need an epidural which through out any chance of laboring naturally. Now, let me be clear. I was indifferent to the epidural. I planned on trying to labor without it but if I needed it, I would take it. The pitocin, however, sounded like hell and why would I want to put myself through that?

So I asked Dr. Stephens if we could delay the pitocin and be given the opportunity to walk around the halls to help get things moving more naturally. In my doula's words, "Dr. Stephens seemed a little irritated at this." But she begrudgingly agreed to wait and see what would happen in the next few hours with my contractions. After the doctor left, I was a little ticked off by her attitude. Well, as ticked off as one can be while incredibly uncomfortable and leaking uncontrollably. Maybe the better term would be "turned off." In those classes we took, we were taught to ask questions and feel entitled to get answers. Heck, EMPOWERED because it's my body, after all.

Then I thought back to my birth plan and I could have sworn I requested a midwife over a doctor. I asked Patti if she could go into the hallway and flag down Nurse Mary. I felt comfortable enough with the nurse (because she had encouraged me to talk to the doctor and ask why whenever I felt it was necessary) to let her know I wasn't feeling this doctor. My doula stepped out into the hall and asked if Mary was available to answer some questions and to find out about getting the IV changed because nobody had come in yet to do it.

What was odd was that another nurse named Maria came into the room instead and said she could answer the questions I had for Mary. Well, I didn't know this Maria chick from a bucket of water and she was kind of pushy. Great. I asked if Mary was available and Maria said she could answer any questions I had. So in the nicest way possible, because I didn't want to be on the Dr. Stephens' bad side if I was stuck with her, I told Maria I would prefer a midwife. Maria asked if I had any medical complications with my pregnancy (um, couldn't she have read my chart?) When I told her I was just diagnosed with preeclampsia. Maria said that was considered a medical complication so I would have to be cared for by an OB. Damn.

I said OK because what else could I say but then asked again about getting my IV replaced. It was still really hurting. Maria said she would do it, but I told her Mary had asked someone else to do it. Maria seemed to insist she would take care of moving the IV and went to get everything she needed. When she came back she turned all the lights up and removed the first IV. What do you know, Maria was unable to get a second IV started and created a pretty big bruise on my right wrist where the first IV was because of the pressure created. I looked like I was a victim of domestic abuse. No ... seriously, the bruise was huge and spread up my arm from my wrist. I felt like telling her she should have practiced on an orange, not me, if she wanted to learn now to do IVs.

Finally, at 9:35 p.m. Maria said she could not get a new IV started and asked if I wanted and anesthesiologist to come in and start one for me. WTF do you think? Especially when my mom said that anesthesiologists were pros at putting in needles, it was just that IVs are kind of beneath them. So this guy named Mike came in about 10 p.m. and was a breath of fresh air. He joked around and was really easy to talk to. He also told me about the epidural and that he would be on tonight to give her one if I wanted. And let me just add that the IV Mike put in was painless. I did not feel a thing. Bless that guy's heart. And curses to Maria. (I liked Mary and while her IV made me incredibly uncomfortable, I wish her no ill will because she apologized over and over about it.)

At 10:20 p.m. Dr. Stephens came back into the room and said she wanted to start pitocin. Still terrified, I asked for some time to walk around because I had been stuck in bed this whole time while waiting for someone to come in and change my IV. Dr. Stephens said she would give me one hour to walk and see if the contractions would increase because she had to go into the OR for another C-section. So The Man, the doula and I were off to walk the halls while my mom hung back in my suite. You may be wondering what happened to my dad. I was only allowed to have three guests so he was in the waiting room. During that time, he also went out and brought my husband some food from a fast food restaurant. So The Man left us briefly to join my dad in the waiting room to eat.

By this time, I was walking pretty slow. The contractions weren't terribly strong but they slowed me down. So did my leaking and the two huge pads I had to wear. We walked several laps throughout the quiet halls of Labor & Delivery and Postpartum. The Man caught up to us after about three laps. My dad decided to go home and my mom decided to stay the night since she was allowed to stay in my room. The Man joined our little walkabout just as my contractions got a little stronger. But I was still really early in my labor. My doula was pooped from working all day and, knowing I still had a ways to go, asked if she could go to a nearby friend’s house to sleep for a little bit. We were to call her as soon as things progressed. She left at about 11 p.m.

Dr. Stephens returned soon after Patti left and I agreed to start the pitocin. Holy Mary, Mother of Pearl ... my contractions got a lot stronger. My mom hugged me or held my hand through the tough ones, especially when I started to cry. The Man felt bad for me and tried to comfort me too. At about 2:40am, I was in a lot of pain by then and told the hubby it was time for our doula to come back.

Patti arrived back at the hospital at 3:00 a.m. and I was sitting on the bed working through a contraction. When the contraction finished, Dr. Stephens checked my cervix and I was dilated to three centimeters. Only THREE EFFIN' CENTIMETERS. My mind was at the point of "bring me the GD epidural." My husband was surprised by this because he thought I was handling the contractions pretty well. To hell with handling, I thought. I wanted the epidural. I was tired and 12 hours had gone by since my supposed routine doctor's appointment. I wanted the bloody epidural.

By 3:30 a.m. the anesthesiologist came in. I was only allowed one guest while he administered the epidural. My mom and doula left and waited in the waiting room until everything was finished. It was a different anesthesiologist but he seemed competent. It was a weird procedure because I had to position myself just right for him to weave it into my back. I'm sure there's a better, clinical term for it but that's what it felt like, he was weaving a needle in and out of my spine. They had numbed the area so it didn’t hurt too much. The liquid felt cool but I was relieved that I wouldn't be feeling much pain for much longer.

My mom and doula were brought back to the room at 4:00 a.m. and, by this time, I was shivering and my legs were tingling. I guess these are normal side effects. The nurse kept having me switch sides for the next 20 minutes or so to make sure the epidural had a nice even effect. And the epidural started to kick in around 5:00 a.m. Hallelujah. I was pretty exhausted by this time and the epidural alleviated the pain. So much so that I was able to take a small nap.

At 6:00 a.m., Dr. Stephens wanted to put in an internal monitor for the contractions and a scalp monitor for the baby. The baby’s heart rate had not been as reactive as the doctor would have liked which is why she suggested these procedures. I was so tired that I took it hard that she was concerned about the baby's heart rate and stick even more contraptions inside of me. I cried a little after the monitors were put in. The doctor checked my cervix again and I had progressed to five centimeters and a -2 station. Not bad, I thought.

But at 6:48 a.m., Dr. Stephens came back in and said she was not really happy with the way the baby’s heart rate was staying flat and she suggested the baby be delivered by cesarean section. Son of a bitch. The very thing we didn’t want. I asked for a few minutes so I could talk to The Man. I was scared but had a feeling that everything that had gone on (and wrong) in the past few hours was leading up to this inevitable conclusion. And if this was the only way to make sure the baby was safe, I just had to suck it up and do it. I gave Dr. Stephens the go ahead and was prepped for surgery ...

Birth Story part I

Tuesday, October 6th was my first day of maternity leave! My due date was 11 days away but I was slowing down. I took it easy and didn't fill up my day with lots of To Dos. I did want to make the best of my newly found free time, though, and made simple plans for lunch with a good friend. We went to my favorite South Indian restaurant and was stuffed with all sorts of vegetarian goodies. Afterwards, we decided to get pedicures - I figured I should have pretty feet because I would be going to the hospital in a few days and just about everyone working there would have to see all parts of my body, including my feet.

My friend and I parted ways around 2:00pm because she had to pick up her son from school and I had my weekly doctor's appointment. I took deep breaths as I was driving to Kaiser because my doctor was monitoring my blood pressure and I didn't want to give her any reason to send me to the lab for blood work. I hated going to the lab because it always oozed of sick people!

When I got to my doctor's office, I did the weekly ritual of peeing in a cup and then waited for my appointment. The nurse called me in, took my blood pressure and ... son of a biscuit. It was 140/90. Not bad for most people but in comparison to my normal numbers (like117/70), I knew that my doctor would lecture me. Well, she's very nice so she doesn't have to do much at all to make me feel guilty.

I waited in the examination room with dread, knowing that she would most likely make me go to the nasty lab where everyone was sick and have to give blood to make sure things were OK. I was partially right. My doctor came into the room and told me that my blood pressure was too high for me and that there was a lot of protein in my urine. Like she was asking me to pass the sugar, she casually told me that these were signs of Preeclampsia and that I would most likely need to deliver within the next 24 hours. She already called the lab so that they would expect me to test my urine one more time as well as take some blood work. After going to lab, she said, I was then to go straight to Labor & Delivery to await my lab results and most likely to be admitted.

I was knocked off my feet. I mean, I KNEW that births hardly if ever go according to plan. Anything and everything can happen. But I thought I had at least a week more of maternity leave before delivering. I was only ONE CENTIMETER dialated. I knew that my baby was no where near ready to get the party started. If I had to deliver within 24 hours, my preferred plan of going the natural route was most likely slim to none.

I had started to cry because I felt overwhelmed. I just nodded and smiled at my doctor through my tears and made my way to the lab. I took a number and waited among the sick (the lab is probably what I dislike most about Kaiser), gave blood and another urine sample, and then walked a lonely walk to the Labor & Delivery ward. Once I go there, they had me lie in bed in a curtained area that must have doubled as the break room. I had privacy but I also heard the microwave being used, the fridge being opened and what sounded like a couple of people taking their lunch. Sweet. Did I mention Iwas hungry by this time? Sure I was upset but I was still pregnant and needed to eat!

During this time, they set me up on a heart rate monitor and I just waited. And waited. And waited. So I made some calls. I called my husband first who had casually answered the phone. He knew it was me because of caller ID but I couldn't say anything because I knew the flood gates would open. He jokingly said, Hellllo?!", thinking I was goofing off. Finally, I just said in a broken voice, "I'm in the hospital. The doctor said she thinks I have Preeclampsia. I'm waiting for my lab results. If I have it, I'll have to deliver the baby sometime during the night."

"What?" He was waiting for me to get home so we could get some dinner. By this time, an hour had gone by and talking to The Man calmed me down. We both figured that if my situation was truly an emergency, I would have heard from the Labor & Delivery doctor on call. But I hadn't. And by the end of our conversation, we decided that he would wait for me to come home and we would get burgers. Because I was starving! Afterwards, I called my doula and left her a message. Having to relay the message again, although I had calmed down, made me tear again. I made the decision NOT to call my parents at this time because, although I was terrified, I still hadn't heard from the doc and it was nearly two hours since my original appointment.

At around 5:30pm, the Labor & Delivery doctor finally came around and told me that my lab results all came back. I was officially diagnosed with Preeclampsia and the only way to remedy this was to deliver my baby as soon as possible, preferably by tomorrow morning. Well, hell. The Man thought I was calling him to let him know that I was coming home but, instead, I called him crying AGAIN to let him know that I was being admitted into the hospital and that I needed him to call my parents, our doula and to bring my the bag I packed for the hospital.

And yes, I was still hungry, damn it.

I miss blogging ...

My life has been turned upside down but I promise to return to tell all about it: The Good. The Bad. And the sleep-deprived Ugly.

My, how things have changed

I'm either becoming used to not having a continuous amount of sleep or am now delirious from sleep deprivation. I'd like to think it's the first but it's probably the second. In any event, I've made my way back onto a computer.
Sticky Bun's birth story is on the way.
I can't believe how easily Four Pounds of Fury (what I've nicknamed SB's crying fits) can make me shiver in my boots. Girl can YELL! And then she turns a fine red-purple. I'm glad the Fury doesn't frustrate me or push me over the edge but it does make me a wee bit scared of her. Less now that I'm home and have gotten used to it. I bluff my way through it, acting like I don't care and hum her a song. But she has to notice that I move my ass a little faster to get her diapered ;)
I also have moments when I look at her and can't believe she is mine. This little being is my daughter. And then I am filled with so much love for her and The Man, I can hardly stand it. I love maternity leave and being able to bond with her.
I am not torn up in the places I thought I would be. So my recovery is very different from what I imagined. Thank goodness for pain killers. But more about that will be in the birth story.
All right. That's it for now. I finally started responding to emails but I've not made or answered phone calls just yet. Mainly because I seem to have forgotten all vocabulary past second grade which makes stringing together complete sentences pretty impossible. Hopefully even a little more sleep will come my way eventually or I may just have to throw out my phone.

Swing shift

I'm sure you wanted to know all about my cervix in its 38th week but that's going to have to wait.
The Man is at a new project for two weeks and it requires him to work from 4pm to 1:30am and the household is topsy turvy with this one! OK, it's not sooo bad but thank goodness I'm on travel restriction with work and that this is also my last week before maternity leave. Because I don't know how peppy I would be next week on this same schedule.
I'm already a light sleeper due to the body invasion I'm currently experiencing. So when The Man comes home around 2ish am, even if he was Ninja stealth-like, I'd probably still wake up. But he's not. And the pups go ape $hit when he comes home so I just wake up. Bless his heart, he tries to be relatively quiet. And he's so pooped that all he wants to do is take a shower and go to bed. But the dogs act like it's Christmas day when he comes home. So when he makes his way to the bedroom, I say hello, wait for things to settle down and then go back to sleep. Of course, because he basically is my binkie or teddy bear, it's hard to sleep with him not in the bed anyway. I get into bed around 9pm but don't fall into a good sleep until after 11pm. It doesn't help that the pups are like those faulty car alarms in the city. You know, the ones that go off for nothing and just piss you off because they stay on for what feels like hours and hours? Well, I love my pups but that's kind of what they do. I'm guessing it's because the Alpha dog isn't home and it's freaking them out that the "pack" is not all together. At least, that's what I tell myself so I don't give them the boot and make them outside dogs.
And in case you were dying to know, the doctor said that this week my cervix is paper thin and the head has dropped lower. I'm surprised I'm not sitting on her.

I have a soft cervix. How about you?

At least, that's what my doctor told me as of Monday :)
So I'm going into my 37th week. I sleep anywhere from 4 to 6 hours a night, not consecutively. I wake up 3-5 times a night to use the restroom. That is my response whenever I'm asked, "How are you feeling?" And then they usually follow it up with, "Oh well that's great practice for you!"
Well, gee. Thanks.
Sticky Bun is showing off her acrobatics now. I had told The Man that she moves slowly. Before I could say, "Like Tai Chi" he asked, "Like a stripper?"
"NO MAN! LIKE TAI CHI!" I yelled at him! "And it can't be good for you to already compare her to a stripper!"
Sheesh.
Her room is all set. Boring and very pink but all set. I didn't want to paint because who am I to tell her what colors she will like? Plus I'm lazy. Today we just got her co-sleeper which we need to set up in our room. The Man is waiting to put in the car seat but it's all ready to go in the garage. I've packed my bag for the hospital and hope that I thought of everything. Luckily, we live three minutes away so if I do forget something, he can go back and get it. Unless it's something I will need during labor. Then I think we're going to have to just write it off.
As I mentioned, my doctor told me that my cervix is soft. She also said that she thought she felt the head. Let me just write that it was not at all comfortable. My blood pressure is back to being excellent and I'm keeping my blood sugar in check. The doctor reiterated that I need to make sure I continue to do so or else baby will build fat on her shoulders. And it doesn't take a genius to know that THAT isn't at all good for me. I see the doctor every week until the baby arrives.
One thing is for sure ... she's a-comin'!

35th Week

Well gestational diabetes certainly showed ME who's boss, didn't it?
Evidently, although my numbers were just a wee bit high, the higher-than-normal-for-me blood pressure did not sit well with the doc and I find myself pricking my finger(s) 4x a day.
I think the (months) of lack of sleep coupled with my weight gain finally took a toll on me and I got hit by the drama truck. I mean, I haven't been too moody or emotional this entire time. Truth be told, it's probably far better than when I used to get my periods. But I was just EXHAUSTED and hearing that I was going to have to test my blood four times a day, once when I wake up, each time exactly one hour after every meal and check in with a nurse once a week ... well, I just thought, "Mother f*cker, yet another thing I have to remember or do on top of everything else?" and I teared up. Then, when The Man came home and asked me how my day went and I told him, I just cried. And I think I was cursing. In any case, he didn't know what to do with his mess of a wifey except say, "Honey, why don't you book a spa treatment this weekend?"
So I did. And it was lovely. I finally had a GOOD prenatal massage (they do exist!) And things didn't seem so bad, after all.
That was two weeks ago, I think. I'm now in my 35th week and thinking about three things:
1. I have a ton of work I need to get done before going on maternity leave so that my boss doesn't think I'm some sort of slacker when she takes over.
2. OH. MY. GOSH. I'm going to be a MOMMY in 3-5 (I'm not even going to accept 6 as an option) weeks!!!
3. OH. HEEEEELLLLLLLLL. She's going to have to come out one way or another. Am I mentally and physically ready?!
Now I don't think of these three things every single moment but I do think about them repeatedly every single day. I also plead with myself and the higher power that, "Please oh please let me lose the weight I've gained. And please let me have something SIMILAR to the body that I had before." Shallow, I know but this is the society we live in and there is incredible pressure. I also think (because I AM a good person), "Please please please let Sticky Bun be healthy" which I do pray for every day.
So these are the running thoughts, among the million, I have in my head multiple times a day. And now I have to get off blogger because mama needs to w-o-r-k.

Week 31

Take THAT, gestational diabetes! HA! (Although it might have been a blessing in disguise because it would have discouraged me from eating everything under the sun.) In any event, my glucose test came back normal. And that's how I kick started week 31.
I think I'm waddling now. Lor' knows I've stopped crossing my legs a long time ago. And I think I sit like a Sumo wrestler. Sex-xyyyyy. But when your stomach now rests on your lap when you sit, do you really care? Well, I do ... and then I reposition myself and try to forget about it. I also strongly dislike pants. I have a maternity work dress for every day of the week and think I will cycle through them until I give birth. Because the idea of pants makes me want to scream! I hate that they feel constricting by the end of the day (I get bloated easily on a daily basis, even before the pregnancy.)
But there's plenty of good stuff, too. OK, just one really. But I love it. I can feel Sticky Bun kick or move just about all the time now. Sometimes I'll gasp for what looks like no reason but it's because she got in a good one and surprised me. Or sometimes it will feel like she got in a good thump and decided to drag her foot down for good measure. And it may be a weird thing to most but I LOVE it. I like knowing she's there, hanging out, getting bigger and stronger. Because I worry, you know? And her thumps just reassure me that she's doing all right. Obviously if and when it starts to hurt, I may be singing a different song. But this is probably the best part of my last trimester.
Sooooo ... I've been around a few new mommies (they gave birth late last year) and I enjoy hearing about their experiences. They are all so different - one mama had a Doula, the other two did not. Two had quick pregnancies, one had a verrrrrrry long one! Things like that. In any case, one mama has been singing the praises of cloth diapers.
That's right, cloth diapers.
Jeezus on a stick, how granola have I become?!
But listen ... this gal loves cloth diapers for so many reasons. Good for the environment (uh huh - I'm getting better but I'm far from winning any Ms Green USA awards), easy to use, and a lot cheaper than disposable. NOW you have my attention!
She broke down the cost per month and then the savings after a year. WOW. So I mention this to The Man who automatically crinkles his nose. Who can blame him? I did it too. But then he went online and did some research (one of the reasons why I love this man to death - he is very open minded!) We're not sure if this is REALLY true but one of the benefits is that babies in cloth diapers tend to potty train faster. We're not sure how one is linked to the other so we just chalk this up to a bonus benefit if it's true. He, like me, really liked the savings aspect. And another thing we both liked is that diaper rashes will be minimal if not non existent. This is great because I have very sensitive skin and I fear I will pass this fun trait to my daughter. But then The Man took it a step further. He looked into Diaper Services. Because even though breast milk poo isn't as bad, he still didn't like the idea of having to deal with it.
That's right, I married the man of my dreams. Really honey, we're going to use a diaper service?!
He examined the cost of the service vs disposable diapers and we still will save money. So we're going to try the diaper service out for the first two months. Yes, I recognize that it is sad that things of this nature make me so over-the-moon-happy but I don't care. I am super excited that we will be using one!
And that is all for Week 31. Not really a cohesive entry but just a bunch of jumbled thoughts. I'm going to blame it on the pregnancy. And not because I'm too lazy to take the time to form good paragraphs:)

30 weeks ...

I'd like to say that I feel like I'm at the home stretch. That I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. But I don't. Right now I'm thinking, "Holy $%&*, I have TEN more weeks left. TEN!"
I've been told numerously that I'm really blessed to have what is considered a good pregnancy. Only got a little sick the first trimester and, knock on wood and everything else, haven't run into complications. And yes, comparatively, especially to those who have had to be on bed rest, I'm sure my pregnancy has been stellar. And, by golly, if these ten weeks are what it takes for Sticky Bun to grow and develop properly, I'm on board 100%. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to bitch about it.
Because, dammit, I am tired of being pregnant. I'm pretty sure I'm getting bigger by the minute. After all, isn't she? But it's becoming impossible to sleep without waking up at least three times a night. Usually, it's more. Even maternity pants are no longer comfortable. I swear my boobs can now feed a village of babies. My shoe selection is now limited to flip flops. And the skin across my chest and tummy is ITCHY and tight. (Yes, I've faithfully smothered myself w/ shea butter. Back off.) Oh, and I'm a tiny bit more irritable. I'm thinking the itching, lack of sleep, uncomfortable weight gain and hormones have all contributed to this.
I know it's all going to be worth it. I know that if I think I'm in love with this baby now, this baby I haven't even seen yet, I'm going to be head over heels in love when I meet her. I know that almost all the negative thoughts I've had these 10 months (did you know it's actually ten months of pregnancy?!) will pretty much disappear as soon as I hold her ... which explains how moms can have more than one child. I know that I will love and be devoted to this little girl for as long as I breathe.
But wow, I am still on board on trying to figure out how we can have babies like hens have chicks.
As for the labor ...
The Man and I are meeting with our doula this week. I feel really good about my decision and am glad that The Man has been supportive. I've learned that when I am uncharted territory, I am comforted when I do my research and am arm myself with knowledge if I can't have the experience (yet.) Like I told my husband, I'm looking forward to the birth of Sticky Bun the way I looked forward to my 21st birthday. I know it's going to be a monumental occasion in my life and something I will remember forever. I also know that with all the joy I will be experiencing with The Man to bring Sticky Bun into this world, it is going to hurt like a MOTHER EFFER.

SB at 28 weeks ...

By the time you are 28 weeks pregnant, the baby's:
Body is about 11 to 14 inches long.
Weight is about 2 lbs.
Lungs continue to mature.
Nervous system has developed enough to control some body functions.
Eyelids open and close.

(Of course, my baby is tan:)

It's starting. Sticky Bun isn't coming for another 2 1/2 - 3 months but she's already taken over parts of our home.
In my office are materials and boxes of favors waiting to be handed out for the shower.
The garage is filling with big toys we received from my in-laws and the crib my parents bought her that has yet to be assembled.
SB has claimed her bedroom upstairs. The closet is packed with all sorts of hand-me-downs from my in-laws: humidifier, 2nd crib & bathtub (we have to move those to my mom's), carriers, and just a bunch of other necessities. SB already has outfits given by lovely friends who, dare I write, are as excited as me to dress up a little girl and the outfits are just waiting for SB in her dresser.
We're starting to receive shower gifts and sprinkled about downstairs is a new bathing tub, booster seat, infant swing, and the changing table that The Man is in the process of assembling.
Sticky Bun is taking over our house. The puppies aren't going to know what hit them. Poor things.
PS: I've had to stop The Man from putting the baby's clothes on Pili. He may just be teasing me but I really can't tell.

But what about her furry babies?

I had a Marley and Me moment the other day. Meaning, I saw the movie, bawled my eyes out at the thought of Piko and Pili leaving us and then I looked lovingly at my very cute yet sometimes disgusting pups. They're so small that they will always seem like puppies to me even though they are full fledged dogs.
Things have been pretty chaotic for us since the start of 2009. January 1st rolled around and we made it a priority to hunt for a new home. Then we made an offer and went through all that shenanigans. During this crazy time, we also found out I was pregnant. Then we moved. (Shoot, that's still a work in progress - we have stuff at our old place!) And we've had to learn to adjust our spending habits because we can't necessarily live in the style we are accustomed to because we now pay mortgage, insurance, HOA fees and a plethora of other bills that come with the joy of being homeowners. OK, I'M the one a bit challenged with this but I've made many changes. For instance, switched from my expensive ass shampoo and conditioner to the $3 stuff (which my hair can totally tell, isn't fooled for a minute, and is currently fighting with me.)
We have taken no recent pictures of the pups. But I don't feel so bad about that because we haven't taken many pictures, period. We don't even have pictures of our new home or baby bump progress pictures. The lack of photographs is a result of our move. I have no idea where my old camera is and we don't have the adapter to charge our new camera.
But I wanted to reassure everyone that our pups are still around and loved. We didn't give them the boot after we found out about Sticky Bun. In fact, The Man thinks it's hilarious to tell me that he wants to try the baby clothes we received as gifts on Pili to see how she looks in them. They still rule the house. For now. I don't know if that will still be the same when SB is here. But they are loved and adored. There were times, though, after discovering a couple of "accidents" in our new home, when I wanted to kick their furry butts outside and make them outdoor dogs. But I didn't. In fact, we want to make sure things go smoothly so, after finding this article on the internet, we are going to be doing the following in the next month or so ...

Every pet, even the friendliest one, has the potential to bite, especially if the pet feels threatened, scared or becomes overly excited. Animal bites can be serious, but you can help prevent them by following some basic tips:
• Spay or neuter your pet; this will help decrease aggression and other problems. Done
• Do not play rough games, like wrestling, with your dog. Done
• Keep your pets' vaccinations up to date, including rabies. Done
• Take your dog to obedience classes. Done ... but you'd never know it.
• If you don't want your pet to go in the baby's room, start forbidding it now, before the baby is born. Yah right. Our pups act like they put down the principle on this home.
• Play recordings of a baby crying, turn on the infant swing, or use a rocking chair so your pet gets used to the sounds. Won't play recordings because that's creepy but we'll do everything else.
• Sprinkle baby powder on your skin so your pet becomes familiar with new smells. Piko loves the taste of Cetaphil. No really, you would think it was peanut butter. So I better make sure she doesn't like baby powder or lotion or that baby is going to get some major lovin' from her.
• Never leave your baby alone with any animal. And I was going to have the baby sleep with them on the doggy bed instead of a crib. Darn.

This just confirms my belief that you are already a momma if you have a furry animal and treat them nicely. Because this is a helluva lot of work for just a "pet"! ;)

Pimp my crib

After much research, deliberation, and negotiation, we have a crib and changing table on the way for Sticky Bun. Here's the background story:
My mom called me and asked if I had visited Potterybarnkids.com. I said no because I knew our budget and it did not include the prices at Pottery Barn. Well, mom said that she and my dad wanted to buy a crib for us and that the crib would be my parents' shower gift. I had been putting off looking into big ticket items like cribs, strollers, car seats because I knew it would be quite a bit of reading (books, seller sites, and recalls) and, well, be a bit depressing when looking at the costs! But it was nice to hear my mom getting excited about SB so I followed her directions and went onto the site.
The crib was $1,000.
I told her that I love her very much, thank you, but I cannot let her throw down that kind of cash on ONE item that their beloved grandchild wouldn't appreciate anyway. Let's be honest, it's more for me and The Man. And, to be excruciatingly honest, the beauty of the crib would mainly be for me! I told her I would call her back.
I love my mama and daddy and knew that The Man and I now had to get off our asses and start to research. Because they are retired, middle class folk who should not be kickin' down that kind of money for a crib.
Research: I cracked open my book, Baby Bargains, which is not only helpful with deals but also goes into great length about safety. The Man hopped onto consumerreports.com and read all about the cribs they tested for safety and comfort ratings. From this we knew that we wanted a convertible crib: they start as a standard full-size crib, then grows with your child to a toddler bed, then a day bed and finally to a full-sized bed with headboard and footboard. We also wanted to have adjustable, four-position, metal mattress support. Yes, the crib from Pottery Barn fit the bill but we so did other cribs in the $300-$450 range.
Deliberation: The Man was extremely uncomfortable with the idea of my parents buying the Pottery Barn crib. They have helped us out so much already, especially with the house, and he just felt like it was not a need but a luxury. I wasn't that taken as aback because my parents liket to splurge every so often but I saw his point and completely agreed. But we knew we couldn't just tell her no. So we looked at all the cribs at Babies R Us and found two that we liked that met our requirements and looked similar enough to the crib my mom had her eye on.
Negotiation: I called my mom back, gave her the links and asked her to check out the cribs. I told her how The Man and I had researched and found that these cribs were not only lovely but also considered the safest for SB. She was shocked that these cribs were less than half the cost of the crib she had checked out and they were still 4-in-1 (a must in her eyes because it was more crib/bed for her buck!) My mom told me she would look at them more closely and call me back. When she did, she told me she found a crib very similar to the ones we showed her on the military shopping website. This meant no tax and no shipping cost. It was a tad bit more but still very reasonable. So reasonable, in fact, that she decided she wanted to buy the matching changing table because the two together was STILL significantly less than $1,000.
And that is how Sticky Bun (and any future baby down the road) got her crib and changing table because I'm all about hand-me-downs!


THANKS, soon-to-be-second-time-around Nana and Papa. We love and appreciate you both!

23 going on 24 months weeks (it just feels like months!)

Dear Sticky Bun,
Well, you and I are embarking into a new part of our journey. Well, this WHOLE journey is new for us both, isn't it? The weather is finally changing and it is now summer. I admit, little one, this is one of the things I've dreaded on our journey (the labor is still #1.) I'm not the best when it comes to heat but I make do. Well, add on 10+ lbs and a lack of summer yet professional work attire and I'm in a bit of a pickle. But, luckily, your Dad and I chose what is the probably the windiest part of town to live. This has been a blessing when it reaches past 80 degrees!
You started kicking more frequently two weeks ago and I am very relieved. You will soon find out that your mama worries A LOT and will always be a worrier. I wouldn't say I'm paranoid or anxious but I do have a stock load of doubt and uneasiness. I worry a lot about you. If you're growing all right, if you're ship shape mentally and physically, things like that. So I'm really glad you're kicking, elbowing or kneeing me. Just don't do that once you come out.
I'll be registering soon for your nursery and things you will need. Your nana loves herself some pastel pink. If I left it up to your nana, every cotton-pickin' thing you will own would be baby pink. And maybe you would love that. But I had to reign her in. It's one thing to dress you up in pink and frilly things. I don't mind if she dresses you up like a cupcake. I'm pretty sure I'll think you're beautiful and precious no matter what. It is, however, quite another thing for me to have to look at a nursery with pastel pink everywhere. I can just imagine myself losing my $hit at 2 in the morning because I'm sleep deprived and having to look at a girlie girl room. So I'm sad that I have yet to find baby decor that has made my heart melt. I know, it's trivial which is why I haven't really worried about it. (I would much rather worry about how you're growing and doing.) But now that I have to register, I know this is a perfect opportunity to decorate your nursery with the help of our family and friends. But I just can't find anything I like yet.
I'm unsure how I want to handle your delivery. I'm still considering a doula but your dad is certain he will be able to be a great coach. I'm hoping he will learn massage and pressure point techniques that are supposed to be helpful during labor. Any little bit helps! And between you, me and the internet, I'm a little afraid of how your dad will react to all the blood and, hmm, stuff (no point in me getting graphic, we know all about the stuff) that will come from my body during labor. Shoot, I joked with him about the mucous plug and I know he was pretty disgusted. But I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Because, as you will soon find out, your dad is one tough dude and very much a guy's guy. So maybe he will be able to stomach the not-so-pretty to see just how rewarding your delivery will be. Plus, from the stories he tells me about the portables at work, he really shouldn't be disgusted with anything that happens in the delivery room.
Here's to a great next 3 1/2 months, Sticky Bun. You and I are both in uncharted territory (well, for us) and I am really looking forward to when you finally arrive. Because I love you soooo much already.

To Doula, or not to Doula

I think each mama-to-be has her own process. As I've mentioned before, I am not a woman who was born to be a mom and had done preliminary research prior to getting pregnant. Meaning, I didn't know the ins and outs of pregnancy, birth and raising a child before deciding to have a baby. I drew upon information gathered from other people over the years but had not done major research like I did when writing my thesis.
Because I was in college for so long (six and a half years!) I tend examine my behavior during those years because it's still sort of how I operate. For instance, I was definitely a crammer rather than someone who got the reading done way in advance (plus, with grad school, we had so much reading that there was no chance to get ahead.) Lucky for me, I think nine months is a fantastic amount of time for me to figure a lot of things out.
Way before I got pregnant, my philosophy of giving birth was KNOCK ME THE EFF OUT. No really, I did not give a hoot about the process, I just want to wake up and have my baby next to me, ready for me to hold. When I became pregnant, I still have this philosophy. In fact, a coworker who had recently given birth was sharing her birth story with us and said she did not want to take any drugs if possible and she kept telling herself during the most painful moments that "every contraction brought her closer to the baby." And I'll be honest, I thought "EFF that, I want nothing to do w/ contractions and letting nature take its course, I want that over as quickly as possible."
Well, ladies, it looks like someone has an undercover granola side to her.
I don't feel so strongly enough about birthing methods (like one is right and one is very wrong!) to preach or judge anyone for choosing something different than the route I plan to take. I mean, I wanted to be knocked the eff out, remember? I will not judge anyone else's birthing or mothering methods because we all are just trying to do and be our best. Anyway, I've read a few books, seen a documentary, am in the process of taking several different classes and talked to those in the medical professional, those that take a more holistic approach, and very granolaesque people. I've pieced a little bit of my former beliefs along with what I've researched (I'm planning on reading one more book!) and have started to come up with a birth plan. Which in itself is controversial! I know that some people think birth plans are crap. I mean, depending on what state you're in when you're finally in labor, that plan could be torn to pieces! But if things were ideal and calm, I will have a birth plan to give to everyone and their mama when I arrive in the hospital. In addition, here are a few things that I've decided. And I fully recognize that I could change my mind because I have four more months! But so far, these are some of my requests:
1. Doula: I found one that I like but she may be on vacation in October. If she is, I don't know if I will interview more. A doula can run between $400 - $1,500. The Man said that he will respect and enforce my wishes and I could pay him half that :)
There is something comforting about having someone who has enough knowledge to be able to stand up for me to the medical staff, especially when I'm going to be at my most vulnerable. I don't view the med staff as the enemy, but because I will be giving birth in the hospital, who knows what doctors and nurses will be on duty and even if the same ones will remain on duty by the time I give birth.
2. Hospital Birth: I actually considered a home birth. I'm telling you, things freakin' change when you've got a fetus hooked up to you!! :) But in one more books (I won't plug it but if any of you want book recommendations, let me know because I like this one) after it states the benefits of home birth, it also said something like if you're not 100% sure this is what you want and if it's your first pregnancy, maybe it's not the best thing for you. Because you have nothing to compare it to and you could be very nervous. Oh heck, even though the environment sounds ideal, the thought of birthing at home makes me so nervous! So I decided that if I could and either The Man or a doula was present at home, I would try to labor as much as possible at home and then go to the hospital. Which, thank goodness, is less than five minutes away!
3. Drugs: Oh the drugs. I guess I've been around a lot more people who have the holistic approach because I've been (gently) discouraged from taking drugs. And there are great reasons not to take drugs which I will not list. I take all the information I've been given under consideration. But when it comes down to it, I'm indifferent when it comes to the epidural. I have a low tolerance for pain and I know myself enough to know that I do not want birth to be a traumatizing experience. I know, I know, women forget and that's why so many have more than one. I am going to ask the doctor if it's possible to have what I think is called an epi-light. It's when the patient can control the dosage amount depending upon the pain. If at all possible, I do not want Pitocin unless it is absolutely necessary.
4. A Natural Birth: If at all possible, I would like to avoid a C-section. I know that an epidural and certainly pitocin could very well lead to a Cesarean section. Which is why I have to think even more about the epidural. But the pain! Ahh, we'll see. And as with everything related to birth, there could be an emergency situation where I will need to have a C-section. But I'm going to try to do everything possible to avoid it.
There, of course, are many details to a birth plan but these are just the big ticket items ;)

I've also started to think about what I would like to do when the baby comes home which could be considered granola. But I'll share that later. As with how I've approached this entire new state of our lives, I'm taking baby steps. If I don't, I'll get overwhelmed and go on strike! And I'm sure the Man and Sticky Bun wouldn't appreciated that. (Fingers crossed that my potential Doula will be in town during my approximate birth time. She'll let me know on Monday.)

What are you really doing?

I've been holding some things back because I wondered if it was okay that I acted or felt this way. And then I saw this video:


I don't think I've adored Dooce.com more than I do today. Here's the thing. I feel so blessed to be pregnant. I know this is a gift and I'm so thankful that we will be adding to our family. I also lean towards paranoia and am constantly worried every day about Sticky Bun. In fact, right now, I'm actually concerned because I haven't felt her kick and we're now at 20 weeks. The Man swore he felt it the other day but I'm trying not to work myself up because I don't think I've felt her kick.

I beat myself up if I forget to take my prenatal pills because JEEZUS, those pills are to her what spinach is to Popeye! So I take them every day, and the days I've missed could probably be counted on one hand. And that is since October because I heard it was good for the baby to take them even before you try to conceive. See? Spinach to Popeye.

But there are certain things I will not do or have not changed. For instance, I refuse to buy more pregnancy books. I refuse to work myself up on the different ways I can kill myself or my baby. I have one very good book that The Man researched and bought for me. I read it cover to cover when I first learned I was pregnant. I refer to it every once in a while when I have a question or am curious about something. I also read the newsletter Kaiser sends me every week to know the progress of Sticky Bun and I share it with The Man and sometimes my friends. But that's about it. That's not to say I will not stock up on parenting books. I've learned from our pups that we (The Man and I) have to stay educated and figure out how to stay in charge. Especially if we have another one because that means we will not out number them and it's man on man defense!

But back to the pregnancy.

Here are my dirty little secrets. And I bet you I will sound defensive but hey, I'm airing them out. Most of my friends who talk to me on a daily basis know but it's not something I would have shared. But that video made me realize that I'm not alone and by golly, these habits don't necessarily make me a bad mama!

1. I drink iced coffee just about every day. That's right. Caffeinated. I sometimes drink decaf but believe me, there is a bloody difference. I figure that iced coffee is also watered down but the doctor SAID that I can have one cup of coffee a day.
2. My vice is McDonald's sausage biscuit meals. That's right, w/ the hashbrown and the iced coffee I mentioned in #1.
3. I walk 3-5 times a week. I should do more like walk every day. It usually goes towards 5 but since Piko has had her eye problem, we've been staying in. But I'm now doing prenatal yoga so that's one extra activity a week. And I usually feel like walking afterwards.
4. I was doing boot camp until my second trimester. Some people may have thought that was utterly ridiculous if not dangerous. I was just trying to keep up my stamina. I had become a fairly active person prior to becoming pregnant and I didn't want to blow up.
5. I am horrible about eating my veggies. Right now I'm drinking a smoothie that I learned to make that sneaks in spinach because I won't get my veggies in, otherwise. (By the way, it's 1c frozen mango, 1c water, 2 heaping handfuls of spinach and 1 banana. It looks like baby poo but it's delicious!) I'm hoping that once the weather heats up, I'll be more inclined to want my salads again.
6. I eat lunch meat about once a week WITHOUT warming up the meat.
7. I eat sprouts. Kidding. In the pregnancy world, that is basically like taking heroine. Damn things are deadly.

I'm sure I commit other pregnancy sins but those are the only ones I can think of off the top of my head. I'm not proud of them, particularly the breakfast weakness, but dammit, they are good. I've gained about 10 pounds total. I think that's normal but I guess the doc will tell me in a couple of weeks.

I like being pregnant. Granted, I'm not one of those mommies that relish in it and love it to pieces. But I like it. It's been a good one and I'm really excited about the end result - baby in my arms! I could, however, do without the gas, the lack of sleep and my pee coming out in a trickle. But I've embraced pregnancy, I LOVE my baby and I've certainly learned to like maternity clothes. Bless the soul that came up with stretchy waist lines and airy dresses. That's right, I'm working the baby bump ;)

The big 2-0!

I love the weekly pregnancy e-newsletter I receive from Kaiser. Here are some fun facts about Sticky Bun at 20 weeks, IN. MY. BELLY.

Body is about 8 inches long.
Weight is about 10 ounces.
Lanugo hair covers its entire body.
Eyebrows and lashes appear.
Nails appear on fingers and toes.
Activity increases with increased muscle development.
Heartbeat can be heard with a stethoscope.

Crazy, right? Here are some fun facts about weight gain!

Breast increase: 1 - 3 pounds
Blood increase: 4 1/2 - 5 pounds
Maternal stores: 4 - 8 pounds
Placenta: 1 - 2 pounds
Amniotic fluid: 2 - 3 pounds
Fetus: 7 1/2 - 8 pounds
Uterus increase: 2 - 5 pounds
The recommended amount of weight you should gain throughout your entire pregnancy is about 25 to 35 pounds. This varies, of course, depending upon your pre-pregnancy weight.

Go ahead, you know you want to say it. You're at least thinking it. OK, I'll say it for you. What the ****, man! 5 pounds of blood? 4 pounds of uterus? And what the EFF is a maternal stores? It's a polite way of saying FAT. Isn't the break down of pounds crazy?! I can't wait to show The Man.

STICKY BUN 5.0

Our baby at 18 weeks (yes, I'm two weeks late on posting it.)

My next step ...

I've enrolled in prenatal yoga and start this Tuesday. I'm nervous and hope I like it.
I loved Vinyasa yoga and took it for years. Some people may not consider it yoga because it was less about meditation and more about challenging the body in difficult poses. But the intensity (and yes, pain) was like meditation for me because I couldn't think of anything else but trying my best to keep my ass from falling over. But scheduling and a very bad shoulder made it difficult to keep up my practice and then my chiropractor discouraging me finally did me in. She, like me, thought yoga was wonderful but said that there was a clear connection between my shoulder pain and yoga classes. So out went yoga and in came boot camp.
Well, boot camp is now on the back burner because of Sticky Bun (who has a name now, by the way.) The whole "Yippee! It-kicked-my-ass-but-in-a-good-way!" feeling disappeared in my second trimester and was replaced with the "Oh-dear-Jeezus,-please-don't-let-me-throw-up-while-I'm-lunging-with-weights-and-I-cannot-believe-there-is-still-45-minutes-left-of-class/ I'm-really-going-to-vomit" feeling. That actually surprised me because I thought I was going to be in even better shape then my doozie of a first trimester. When I told my doctor that boot camp was getting very difficult, she said she was wondering how long I would last in that class. Nice. She recommended I switch to low impact workouts and low impact boot camp was NOT.
Anyway, back to the prenatal yoga. I'm nervous not because I haven't been doing yoga for a while but, well, this will sound totally cocky so I must apologize in advance. But what I'm worried about is that it will be too easy and I will get bored. When I started taking yoga and tried out different classes, there was such a thing as too easy of a yoga class even though I was a beginner. And really, I stand by that. Maybe "easy" isn't the appropriate word but I just don't want a class that's about breathing through one nostril, out the other, and chanting. I'm okay with the breathing but give me a workout, too, for crying out loud.
I'm taking it through Kaiser so the classes are relatively inexpensive and it's only once a week for six weeks. There is a yoga studio across town that teaches prenatal yoga but I wanted to try Kaiser first because it takes all of two minutes for me to drive there and it's less expensive. We'll see. Across town takes 15-20 minutes (I cannot believe street traffic sometimes) but it's twice a week and because it's at a studio, it may be a little more challenging. But I have plenty of time to figure it out. I've paid for the next six weeks at Kaiser. Hey ... wouldn't it be something if I go to my class on Tuesday and totally get my ass kicked? Like a deserving cocky mother effer? We'll see ... I'm hoping I'm not THAT out of shape!
The Man and I will also be attending a baby preparation class in July. Here is the description: The time for your baby's arrival is drawing near. We'll help you and your partner get ready for the labor and delivery experience. That means being able to recognize the early signs of labor and to know when to call your doctor. We'll discuss what you can expect in the hospital, your options for pain relief during labor and delivery, and how to care for yourself after the baby is born. We encourage you to take this class when you are 28 to 34 weeks pregnant. This class does not take the place of Preparing for Childbirth.
Evidently we will be enrolling in the Preparing for Childbirth class, as well. I'm debating if I should take the breast feeding class because I was told by a couple that the one person who should be taking the class is the one that doesn't - the baby. I'm sure you're thinking, what's the harm in taking another class? These types of learning classes are 2 1/2 - 3 hours long! And as I steadily get bigger, the less excited I am about sitting anywhere for that long period of time unless it's well worth my while. And you bet you're sweet patootie that I'm bringing snacks and water. Maybe even a pillow.

Sticky Bun is a GIRL!

I think our baby read Kim's comment to my previous entry because she was dodging that ultrasound technician like no other. I will probably have to go back for another one too!
This was my third ultrasound and each experience has been different. The first one was with the paddle-like probe that went up the hoo-hah. The secone one was in the Gynecology department and was the best one because there was a monitor specifically for the mama to watch while the technician took different images and measurements of the baby. This third one was in the Radiation department (I know, strange, right?) and was not as serene as the second. Lots of noise outside and there was no monitor for me to look at while the tech worked so I was bored. Plus, the pictures were not nearly as good as the one I received at three months. I don't even know if it's worth scanning and posting. One image has half of the baby's body where she's sucking her thumb. But the legs are hidden so they look like they're missing. The second image was very unclear and pointed to her labia. No, seriously, there is an arrow pointing to what no one would be able to identify as a labia and reads, "Girl!"
While the appointment itself was a lackluster one, I was so jazzed to find out the baby is a girl! Of course, without a genetics test, we could very well be one of those parents that had a tech misread the ultrasound or the baby somehow tucked away it's bits that identified him as a he but we're pretty sure we're having a girl. A girl!
The Man was a little stunned. I know he's probably thinking about all the thoughts he had about girls as a pubescent boy. Hehehe ... during our drive afterwards he wondered aloud if he could find something that LOOKED like a shot gun that he could polish in front of her teenage suitors for when she eventually starts dating.
I start thinking about girlie baby clothes, he starts thinking about fake shot guns. We all express our joy in different ways.

Mother's Day gift ... one day late

Tomorrow we find out if Sticky Bun is a boy or a girl. Yes, I'm the kinda gal that wants to know, oh, I don't know, YESTERDAY!
The stories, though, that people have told me about misread ultrasound do not help at all. Like when my boss told me that one of her girlfriends thought she was having a girl and boop! Out pops a boy. After all the baby girl clothes were purchased and the nursery was done up for a girl. Or the other stories I've been told of when the baby has crossed his/her legs or mooned the camera are of no comfort either. Because, in case you didn't know, hospitals don't let you have ultrasounds at the drop of the hat or at your whim or fancy. Evidently they're a bit pricey! So I truly hope it's as clear as day when we go to our appointment tomorrow.
OF COURSE I will be happy no matter what as long as the baby is healthy. All along that has been my main concern and my greatest wish - that this baby be strong and healthy.
But dammit if I get tricked by a misread ultrasound! Hahaha ... I'm hoping that those are rare and that I get a doc with a good track record.
I am also excited because it's The Man's first time seeing an ultrasound. I've had the pleasure of seeing two (remember the evasive first?!) and I think that is the moment when everything felt real to me. And, to be honest, when I fell head over heels in love. And, unlike The Man, I at least have the opportunity to experience the baby inside of me whereas he has been sort of removed from the whole thing and has to experience things second hand.
Funny ... I actually see my pregnancy as an opportunity when that is pretty much what freaked me out for so long. But it is, for all the uncomfortableness, an almost unreal experience. Although I know there is this living, growing person inside of me, I have yet to feel kicks or movement. So when I went to the doctor and got to hear the heartbeat or, better yet, got to see the baby move around, that's when I felt really connected. So I can understand how it's hard for a Daddy-to-be to feel part of everything. And the whole realness of it all. I cannot wait to see what The Man looks like when he gets to see our baby. (If he cries, which would be a shocker because I've only seen him cry once out of emotion and once out of pain, I'll let you guys know. But shhh, don't tell him!)
So what do you think? Boy or a girl? I have my suspicions but I won't write them down because if the baby is not what I think it to be and then reads this blog 13 years down the road when he/she is in puberty, the little hormonal teen will think I didn't want him/her. And I can't have that held against me on top of the so many other things I'm sure our kid will already think :P (I'm hoping this SB will be a lot more reasonable than I was as a teen. Because, at times, I was one piece of work!) On that note, Happy Mother's Day to my mama!!! I can't believe she did this three times. And then had to raise all of us. That woman is tougher than nails.

Oh ... the J-O-B!

I haven't written in a long time about my money maker, my J-O-B, because of all the changes going on in my life. Well, over all, I still love it. It's been a challenging year in the Bean Finder industry. But hasn't it been challenging in just about every industry? Anyway, despite my numbers being abysmal, everything else is peachy keen. I know it's a little sick but I really do love my job. Weird thing to write because it's not my DREAM JOB (my dream job would be a travel channel host who goes to tropical locations ... or be a movie star) but I do love it.
There are those days, though.
One of the perks I have is that I can work from home. I'm not officially a telecommuter but something pretty close to it. I don't have a conventional work schedule. Although I can work from home, I travel 85% of the time during my work day to various customers and potential customers, depending on the year. I put a lot of mileage on Gertie and although she's a 2008 model, she's probably seen more action than cars a little older.
While I love my job, there are always pet peeves or a downside, right? Well, a glaring downside for me is the driving. And I don't complain most of the time because I knew what I was signing up for. But HOT DAMN. In the past 2+ years, I've gotten a moving violation ticket so I took traffic school to get it cleared. But then there was a big mess with sending it to DMV and NOT the court so it actually did not get cleared and now I have a point. Then I got into an accident which I will totally own up to and admit was my fault. Another point. My insurance is now double. Then I got a flat tire that needed to be replaced. For $280+. That really ticked me off because I thought I could get at least two for that price.
And then yesterday. Yesterday I'm driving with The Man to take care of some errands after work and I hear something that sounds like a seat belt is flapping in the wind. Odd because my car is new enough that the belts retract pretty well. Once we get to our destination, I look for something sticking out of my rear passenger door. Paper bag? Seat belt? Nothing. Huh.
I then see a BIG ASS NAIL head sticking out of my tire. I am not kidding, it was over a 1/2 inch in diameter. This thing was HUGE. I show The Man who remembers all to well how much the last tire cost. We go to a tire place and, thank goodness, they say they can patch it up for $30. I am conservatively excited as I've had to end up replacing patched tires in the past. But hey, I'm willing to kick down $30 with the hope it will work.
Christmas on a Cracker, people! All this driving around has made me susceptible to so much more than I'm used to! Oh, let's reflect on all the crazy things that happen to me where, luckily, my car and/or I don't get injured. I've had two canoes come off of a car in front of me on the freeway going 80 miles an hour. Thank goodness they bounced in opposite directions instead of directly behind the car because that's where I was! I've also seen what appeared to be two dead bodies in unrelated incidents (I think one was a motorcycle accident and the other was someone who committed suicide on the railroad tracks.) I've had a van next to me, again on the freeway, have its tire closest to me EXPLODE. No, I'm not exaggerating. Luckily, they were able to maintain some control and veer to the left shoulder instead of to the right (where I was) and, while parts of the tire did hit my car, there was no damage.
This nail, which was actually a big ass BOLT, was the last straw for The Man. He asked me if, once I'm back from maternity leave and the economy starts looking up again, I can look for another position within the company. I told him that I could but none would allow me to work from home. He said he didn't care, that I drove too much and we would come up with a way to get child care so that I could work 9-5 in the office. (People, this bolt was ginormous. He has no idea how I could have gotten it in my tire other than the freeway.) He has had enough.
Me? As long as the $30 patchwork holds up, I'm OK. But I get where he's coming from. I do drive an awful lot. And in addition to all I mentioned above, the wear and tear on my car is a bit much. If I stay at my job, The Man said my next car should be a tank. I argue that the mileage would be bad.
We will see. I understand his point but I love my job. But if I see one more dead body or another object poorly tied to the car in front of me that just flies off, I may have to start inquiring within my company.

Am I in the wrong hometown?

I just saw this commercial: http://comps.gunnjerkens.com/hayward/ (courtesy of The HayWord.)
What a great job marketing where I live. But it made me wonder if we're talking about the same city? Haha ... no big deal to me. After all, we bought a home here so I can't really knock on it. I just wish I could be in the car with the folks who saw this and then decided to take a look for themselves.

You either got 'em or you don't ... right?

This entry is for the ladies who weren't born with that maternal instinct. You know if it's you. It's definitely me.
I have friends and family who always knew they wanted to be a mommy. It was a certain for them. "I'm going to get married. And then I'm going to have children." I may have said it. After all, I didn't want to be the freak who didn't know if she would be a mom. But I really wasn't sure. Especially in my early 20s. I thought for sure after college, those instincts, those wants, would kick in. Imagine being in a sorority, almost all of them itching to get married right after graduation, most of them wanting to be a mommy shortly thereafter, and half of them studying to be elementary teachers. These were definitely mamas in the making. And I remember I wouldn't say much. I knew that I wanted to be married. I knew that I wanted a career in something. But I was indifferent about having kids.
There could be several reasons. I thought in the past that maybe it was because I was the baby and I liked being pampered. Maybe I was a bit spoiled and didn't want to think about having to take care of someone else. I wasn't sure. I mean, I didn't mind and wasn't opposed to the idea of looking after someone else but had no experience since I was the youngest. I'm also pretty sure that a lot of my indifference had to do with how insecure I was about my body. I always had negative feelings about my body and the thought of putting on extra poundage that I could quite possibly never take off scared the hell out of me. Like when you get pregnant. Yup, I'm almost certain a lot had to do with that. And then, as I mentioned, I just didn't have those yearnings the way other women had. The ones that knew that they were born to be a mom.
So what changed?
I figured I should address that before I scare people and you think, "Well what the HELL is she having a baby for then?!" A lot has to do with my partner. Keep in mind, I never not wanted a baby. I just didn't have the aching other people had and I was scared of the permanent damage my body would face. I was honestly petrified of that because I felt like I had no control of my body in the first place without facing additional challenges.
Then I met a man who truly wanted a family with children. He, unlike me, knew he was born to be a dad. No joke. This guy wants to be a father. But the reason I didn't run for the hills is because all his reasons, in my opinion, are the right reasons. He didn't see children as filling a void, fixing a problem or as some macho deed to "spread his seed." The Man saw it as a way to make our family even better. He thought that if we had this much love for each other, imagine how great our love would be for our children. He loves the idea that our child will be able to meet three out of his/her four grandparents. And then there are the things he doesn't say but the things he does. I see how The Man is with our puppies. Now I know, believe me, I know pets are different from babies but I see how tenderly he treats them. I see how this tough construction worker comes home and is just a total softie around our pups. (His coworkers would never believe it.) This is a guy who boiled chicken for months because that was the only way they would eat - if he mixed chicken and kibble.
You get the point. I could see us working as a team to raise a child. I saw someone who would step in when I was exhausted or felt beat up. I knew he would truly be my partner.
So I thought about it. I thought about all the things that made him so happy about the idea of having a child. My indifference changed. Up until this point, I could have gone either way - be a childless couple or be a couple with children. But I thought about it and thought about it. Because I didn't want to be someone who brought a baby into this world without truly wanting him/her. While The Man's excitment of having a baby was contagious, I wanted to want one all on my own. I thought about it before we got married. I thought about it after we got married. Then I thought some more. And then I asked him if he was willing to wait until the beginning of 2009 to start a family. This was a surprise to him because I had talked about wanting to try a couple years down the road, maybe when I was 32. But I was ready. I saw and did everything I wanted to do before having a baby. No, I didn't travel all over the world or discover my dream career. But I am happy with my life and ready to make my life better. And more complicated :)
And there it is. I was this young woman who was indifferent about having a baby. Now I am this 30 year old lady who cried when she saw her baby through the ultrasound. People evolve, people change. I did.
Here's looking forward to the adventures of being pregnant and then being a mommy! And no, I never thought I'd be one of those women who blog on and on about her baby.
TOO BAD! :)