This side of crazy

I'm pooped.

I was fully prepared for the new relationship I would have with baby poop once Pepper arrived. In fact, I expected to be constantly talking about Pepper's poop, assessing Pepper's poop, and just generally obsessed with all of her heiny products. Having the expectation prepared me for it and helped me accept it. What I did not prepare for was the other poop I would be confronted with and how this other poop would slowly wear me down and threaten my fragile sanity.

When Husband and I got home from a long day out and about, we found the remnants of a Macaroni n' Cheese box distributed about the downstairs. Cheese powder was strategically ground into the carpet. One of our Jack Russell Terriers, Wilson, had discovered the box of food stuffs that I had neglected to remember to bring to a local food pantry. Apparently, Wilson had also found an old packet of seasoning to make Thai Fried Rice. Cleaning cheese powder out of the carpet would turn out to be the easiest part of the clean up job.

The fallout began when Wilson puked in our bed at around 2 am that night. The next morning, I came downstairs to find trails of diarrhea all over the living room carpet. I quickly discovered that it is very difficult to hold a one month old baby and scrub runny dog poop out of synthetic fibers. Pepper didn't like it very much either, actually. I finally gave up, sat down on the couch, held my baby and my nose, and quietly wondered if other mothers are thrown into a spiraling depression by the thought of their baby some day crawling around on carpet infested with petrified dog diarrhea. It certainly seems possible.

Outings

We only have one car. For the most part, this isn't really a problem. But now that we have Pepper, things are a bit more complicated. In order to get Husband to work and still arrange it so that I have the car all day, we all get up early and take him to work.

The first day we did this I decided to make the most of being out of the house by going to my favorite neighborhood cafe for some espresso and to read the paper. It felt so good to be out on the town with my baby. I was still significantly worried, however, about exposing my newborn to the public's germs. And, I think a substantial part of me was also worried that other people thought I was a bad mom for exposing my newborn to the outside world.


Nevertheless, I was thoroughly enjoying the experience of sitting in the cafe, reading my newspaper, drinking my latte, and rocking my baby. This lasted right up until I heard a woman ask another woman, "Is that a real skunk?" At that point, I looked up just in time to see a real live baby skunk peering out of the woman's handbag, about 4 feet away from me and my vulnerable baby.

What was I thinking? How could I take my baby out on the town without considering the possibility that people would bring their newly rescued baby skunks into the cafe with them. Just when I thought I had considered all the dangers the world presented, a woman takes her skunk out for coffee.

Pepper's Birth Story

I had delusions of grandeur regarding the telling of this birth story. Perhaps if I had more than two arms, 6 more hours in the day, and more than 2 hours of sleep in one stretch, the writing of this birth tale would actually do the real thing justice. But, I suppose it's time to lower my expectations of myself for a little while at least. So the following will have to do...

Sunday, June 8th, I awoke around 9am to what felt like little more than pre-labor pains, very similar to the low back and lower abdomen discomfort I feel during my periods. Husband promised we wouldn't just sit around waiting for something to happen again and he took me out to breakfast. By 11am we were having waffles and I was making trips to the bathroom for digestive distress about every 10 minutes. Husband was noting the time of any pains that seemed more uncomfortable than the usual. They were probably happening every10-15 minutes without any defined beginning or end.

When we got back home, I got in the bathtub with the hopes of settling my aching lower back. Once I did that, the discomfort seemed to get organized. Suddenly, I could identify a start and stop for the low grade pain and pressure in my pelvic floor. So we called the doula and she decided that it was probable time for her to come over. By the time she got to the house it was around 2pm or so. I was getting out of the tub because laying on my back back was no longer cutting it. The doula and husband helped me to remember to breathe and relax my face with each surge of the growing pain. I think by this time, I could actually call it pain and finally started to believe that I was really in labor. We enjoyed some smoothies that husband whipped up and then the surges were coming every 4-6 minutes. At that point, we all decided that it was time to go to the hospital.

Husband loaded up everything our little car could hold and we headed out for the 40 minute drive. It was great to have the doula in the car to coach me through the contractions while husband focused on driving safely. When we arrived at the hospital it was about 5:30pm, and I could no longer talk or walk when a contraction came on. It required all my concentration to breathe through the pain of them. Once admitted, they put me on the monitor and Curry was looking good. From there, I couldn't wait to get into the tub.

Once again, the tub seemed to ramp things up a bit. The water felt fabulous between contractions, while the surges were surprisingly intense and yet still manageable. Time becomes a strange thing when in labor. It went fast and yet so slow. While in the tub, the nurse checked me and said I was only 2 cm but 100% effaced. About an hour later, she checked me again and I was fully dilated. In that hour I experienced more pain than I thought was humanly possible. I moaned and groaned, despite my hope to make it through labor without a single cry. I vomited and then pronounced that I couldn't do it anymore and that I didn't want a baby afterall. Classic transition signals, apparently.

Shortly thereafter they put me back on the monitor to check how Curry was handling the rapid progression. She was struggling. With each contraction, her heart rate took a dive. I didn't realize it at the time but there was a fair amount of concern in the room and suddenly the room was filled with nurses. The lead nurse yelled to another nurse to call the doctor and tell him that he didn't arrive soon, the baby would arrive without him as I was already pushing. In those moments they put in an IV and shoved an oxygen mask in my face. Thankfully, I had no idea why. I was too caught up in my urge to push. But once I did see the IV I recall telling everyone, "Bring on the drugs!" Luckily, everyone had read the birth plan and no drugs were brought.

I pushed for about 20 minutes at the most. In between pushing, I begged the doctor to just take her out. Turns out that they were considering it after all. The doctor was concerned that Curry wouldn't be able to take many more dips in her heart rate and he was quietly preparing to do an epiosotomy and vacuum extraction. But Curry had other plans. She came so hard and fast that there was no time to stretch my perineum as I had hoped. At 9:20pm, Curry the fetus morphed into Pepper the baby when she emerged from my body. She was wide eyed as they immediately laid her down on my bare chest. Pink and perky, Pepper let out a tiny cry and was quiet again as she scoped out the room. At that moment, all pain disappeared and I was totally in love.

Meanwhile, I bled and bled while we awaited the delivery of the placenta. 750mL of blood loss makes me a very weak girl. Plus I had two second degree tears from the quick delivery. My cervix decided its job was complete when it closed up for the night. The doctor had to pry it back open and that my friends is not pleasant. It took about 40 minutes for them to get the placenta to come out. I no longer believe that the afterbirth is the easiest part of labor.

All in all it was a fast furious labor that went basically to plan. I go over the labor and delivery in my head at least once a day, trying to remember more details and seal the memories in my head forever.

DOB: 6/8/08

Our baby daughter came safely into this world at 9:20pm on Sunday, June 8th. She's a little guy at 6 pounds 2 ounces. We are well and a birth story will be forthcoming. For now, I need to keep up my sleep to maintain the slim hold on sanity that I have at this time. Promise to write more later.

Until then, here's some baby love for ya...

Progress

At 39 weeks and 6 days, I am mentally totally ready for this baby to make its appearance. I had my doctor's appointment today and from the finger test, my doctor says that I am 2 cm dilated and 75% effaced. Good news from my perspective. While I know that these numbers don't necessarily guarantee a delivery any time soon, I am still reassured that my body is willing to get into the game. To keep my body motivated, I went for a good long walk after the appointment.

I am not sure that I totally buy into the idea of imagery and visualizing but I figure it can't hurt. I have been making deals with the baby and giving her instructions on how I want things to go from here on out. I also do goofy things like picturing my cervix yawning casually open very wide and then imagining the baby settling down into just the right station.

The funny thing is that I really want a natural birth and yet I really don't want to go on being pregnant for the next two weeks. So when the doctor said that he would give me another week at most, I was a bit happy about it, even though I knew that meant induction. And the word "induction" doesn't usually have a great link with the term "natural". To reassure myself I reminded my body that my sister had to be induced and still was able to proceed naturally after the initial kick start.

And, so we wait and see.

Uncharted territory.

I have no school, no job, no pressing duties, and I really don't know what to do with myself. This may be the very first time in my life where my sole responsibility is to rest, eat well, and wait. It's the road less traveled in my journey. Weird stuff.

The idea that I, like so many other first timers, will likely gestate well into the 42nd week is a bit depressing. Unwisely, I have focused on my due date of June 4th. Now I am starting to realize that I may be looking more at mid-June. Ugh...

On the bipolar front, the mood coaster has been fairly smooth these last 9 months. I got the clearance from my psychiatrist to go ahead with trying to breastfeed after labor. This was a great relief considering her original plan was to put me right back on mood stabilizers as soon as the baby was born, meaning no breastfeeding. I am hell bent on trying to breastfeed, and now she is on board with the plan as well. So long as I don't show any signs of PPD or psychosis. Just typing that last word makes me shiver.

Spending time just lounging fosters unfounded guilt. So, I pass the time by visiting you all and your lovely posts. Speaking of which, Aurelia has great news, if not eventful. Stop on by and see for yourself.

Trust Issues

Yesterday, I lounged around all morning. After about 3 hours of doing nothing, I realized that I hadn't felt Curry move all morning! Panic set in pretty quickly and soon I was drinking a liter of juice, laying on my left side and begging Curry to give me a nudge. No movement. Husband and doctor were contacted. Within 15 minutes, I had thrown my pre-packed hospital luggage into the car and we were on our way to the hospital for a non-stress test. I practiced doing some deep breathing relaxation on the 30 minutes drive there. By the time we were 5 miles from the hospital, I felt her give me a little punch in the ribs.

While I waited to be hooked up to the external fetal monitor, we could hear a young woman screaming in labor in the next room. Every once in awhile we could make out the words, "It hurts!" I have no problem in general with women needed to scream out in pain. But, I could have used some ear plugs during those few moments.

Finally, they hooked me up and I heard the sweet sound of my baby's heartbeat. The nurse smiled and said things looked really good. Apparently, I even managed to have a good contraction that popped up on the monitor. At least that's what they told me, I didn't feel a thing. Nor did I feel any of the movements that they said Curry was busy making. Perhaps, she had turned herself around so that most of her kicks were into my back. Who knows what my naughty daughter was up to yesterday, but by the time we left the hospital she was back to her tricks and kicking me firmly in the ribs.

On the way to the hospital, I realized that I have some trust issues. All of the natural birthing books I am reading consistently emphasize that women must trust their bodies to do the right thing during labor and delivery. I am not so sure that I trust my body to know what to do. It's sad that miscarriage and mental illness has convinced me that my body doesn't know a damn thing about any of the stuff that it should.

To Term

Done! All the work is handed in and I walked at my graduation yesterday. I am still in a graduation haze and the fact that l@w school is finally over is very gradually settling in. Now, I can focus completely on having this baby without feeling guilty that I am neglecting school or other obligations. For the next 3 months, I have only one obligation and that is truly exciting. It's a whole new idea to me and I am hoping to milk it for all it's worth.

The nesting instinct is starting to take hold, although not in the most productive way. Instead of feeling energetic and feeling the need to organize and clean, I just dream about it fitfully. Then I wake up and remember that nothing has been done and there is still so much left to do.

On the humor front, I fielded a junk phone call the other day. For some reason I felt the need to humor the person and tell them what types of magazines that I was interested in reading. The caller latched onto the idea that I am pregnant and suggested Fit Pregnancy. Not a terrible idea. She quoted a price and I asked how long that would be for. Answer: 5 years. Um, I'm not sure that I am going to be pregnant for five more years, but hey, what do I know?

One down, so many to go...

Just finished one final. I have one more final to go, plus a paper. I feel so close and yet so far.

I am having almost daily emotional breakdowns which are just fun for the whole family.

We had a scheduled meeting to interview our preferred and highly recommended doula. She never showed and when called professed to forgetting. We rescheduled for today, despite my husband's legitimate doubts about her at this point. I am unwilling to give up on her, but am unsure why. Lunacy does that.