Saturday, May 4, 2013
Saturday, May 4th: I woke up at 1am. I figured it was a standard potty break. I had an uncomfortable contraction, went through my roll-over maneuvering, and felt some baby wiggles. Then, I felt a warm flow of liquid in my crotch. I thought maybe I had peed myself. But I hadn't lost bladder control before...so I wasn't quite sure. Perhaps it was my water breaking?
I got out of bed, trying to not soil my sheets (we had -just- put clean sheets on the bed, and I didn't want to have to change them again...especially if this wasn't labor). I sat on the toilet and peed, but didn't feel any further leaking. So I thought maybe I had peed myself after all. But when I wiped, there was a definite, although very faint, pink tint.
With the light still on, I opened the bathroom door, which woke up Scotty. I stood there, underwear in hand, and with a nervous giggle told him that I either peed myself, or my water broke. I really wasn't totally convinced that it was my amniotic fluid, because even further moving around didn't allow any more leaking. I was only having my typical prodromal-style contractions, so I figured I would lay back down and try to get some rest. Scotty said there was no way he would be able to get back to sleep.
So, I laid back down with a chux pad under me. Still no further leaking. But my contractions were getting stronger and laying down wasn't really all that comfortable. Since it had been almost 2 days since my last shower (and I had really worked up a sweat making the fondant earlier), I decided to go ahead and take a shower. It was 1:20am when I got into the shower.
I put shampoo in my hair, then swayed through a contraction. Then rinsed and put conditioner in, and swayed through a contraction. Then finished up, while swaying through contractions throughout. While I was swaying, I thought I could feel warmth flowing out of me, but it was hard to tell with all the water. The water wasn't really heating up to where I wanted it to be, so I thought I would get out. But then I thought I would stay in. But then I really got out. (Make up your mind, right!?) As I was drying off, I noticed there was pink tinged fluid running down my leg.
Scotty helped me dry off and put on my robe, and I decided to sit on my birth ball. It was covered with a chux pad, and I sat down. Scotty woke my mom up and had her join us, especially so she could french braid my hair before things got too intense. Then I felt like the pad needed to be moved forward a little bit, so I leaned back to move it and a huge gush of amniotic fluid poured out onto the plastic drop cloth we had on the floor at the foot of our bed. I could see it was a beautiful clear color, with lots of vernix. And it smelled so sweet.
I was giddy by now. I kept announcing that I was having a baby, and joking about the baby coming when it wasn't supposed to (the day of Bug's party), and also joking about the gushing of fluid I would have every time I leaned back. My mom braided my hair, while I contracted.
After a bit, I went to pee on the toilet. When I came back out, I decided to kneel and lean against my bed for the contractions. Around this time, my dad had also joined the party in my room. He is an RN, and moved very well into "nurse mode", asking if I wanted cold washcloths, water, a fan, a window open? At first, we all chatted in between contractions. And I ate some grapes. Then I started getting more into my birth zone. I was focusing more and more on each contraction, and soon I started vocalizing.
My dad excused himself, because he could tell I was getting hot, and I would probably be taking my robe off soon. I had to pee again, but didn't want to go to the toilet, so I peed on a chux pad. Shortly after, my robe came off. At this point, I was very concentrated on my contractions. I vocalized deep, low, humming moans. And I leaned against the bed and squeezed Scotty's hand. Scotty asked a few times if I wanted to get -on- the bed to be more comfortable, but I declined. I was very comfortable on the floor, leaning against the bed.
Things were starting to feel hard. Mentally, I knew I had to be in transition, because it was just so. dang. hard! But I hadn't been in labor that long. Could I really be in transition??? I announced that I thought I must be there (because, again, so dang hard). I didn't say anything else out loud about how difficult things were for me, but I was thinking a lot that I wasn't sure if I would be able to do this! My contractions were coming two at a time, before I would have a small break. One big contraction, thirty second break, one not-quite-so-big contraction, one minute break.
At about 3:50am, I had a big contraction that ended with a grunt. It didn't feel quite like a normal pushing contraction. I started having these contractions that still were so incredibly hard, but they ended with little, grunty pushes. I felt like maybe I had a little bit of a cervical lip left, and maybe that was why my contractions were on the line between transition and pushing. My vocalizing was starting to become a little wobbly. I felt like I was losing my focus. Scotty had moved down behind me, to check on progress, so I started squeezing my mom's hands during the contractions.
Finally, during another contraction, something changed (that cervical lip went away). I felt the baby's head move down. Oh, what a sweet feeling. I knew things were almost over. The next contraction had me pushing hard. I announced that I was pooping (birth is lovely, no?) and my hand went down to my crotch. There was a baby head there! And it burned! I tried to support my perineum, and then my labia as I moved through the push. Scotty was down behind me, watching the progress (and keeping things clean). He announced that he could see an ear. I think Mom and Scotty were surprised, because everything was happening so fast!
The next contraction brought out baby! I had a hand on his head, and Scotty helped support his body and guide him to the floor in front of me. Oh, baby boy, he was here! The cord was wrapped around his neck twice, so I gently and calmly unwound it and picked him up. I brought him to my chest and rubbed his slippery body. And then the euphoria! He was so tiny (it's so easy to forget how small newborn babies are). He gave a few tiny squeaks, but otherwise was very quiet. His tone was great and he pinked up almost immediately.
Gizmo (who, luckily, fell asleep very early that evening) was apparently kneeling outside our door, trying to see in under it. My dad (who heard the squeaking baby) came in and let Gizmo and Bug both in to meet their new brother. I was so happy, I could have cried! I had done it! I gave birth, unassisted!
After about half an hour of joyful family time, I got back onto my knees and gave a few pushes to deliver the placenta. My mom got a Tupperware and I plopped the placenta into it. After the cord was tied and cut (by Scotty), I examined the placenta. It looked whole and beautiful. (And I am determined this time to get it encapsulated!) I nursed the baby a little (once he latches on, he nurses wonderfully)! Then we weighed and measured the little guy.
Shortly after, I took a fairly quick herbal bath (the water wasn't warm enough to keep me longer) and triumphantly headed downstairs for breakfast!
Welcome to earth, baby Jedi! (His perfect nickname, for this May the Fourth [be with you] birthday!) Born unassisted at home on May 4th, 2013 at 4:21am, after less than 3.5 hours of labor! Weighing 8lbs 1oz, and 20" long. Beautiful and perfect!
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
But today....I NEEDED TO FIND AND FILL THAT BALL!!!! (Remember a couple posts ago where I said pregnancy makes me crazy? Yeah. I wasn't kidding.)
Even though it has been over a year since we moved, we still have three spaces that have boxes and other 'unpacked' things: master bedroom closet, spare bedroom closet, and Narnia-esque under-the-stairs coat closet.
For some reason, I thought the big, blue ball would be in the spare bedroom closet. So I started there. I pulled out boxes. I pulled ligaments. I caused contractions. I grunted. I strained. I dug and I looked and I rifled and I looked. And no ball. So I put everything back. With more pulling and grunting and straining.
Frustrated and tired, I went to my closet. I found the pump to fill the ball. Yay. But after some half-hearted rifling through the closet, there was still no ball.
So I went and sat on the couch for a bit, because I was pooped. And I texted the Hubby, asking if he knew where the heck the ball was. His response: in our closet or the coat closet.
After a bit, I had regained enough of my energy to resume my search. The coat closet. So daunting. Among the things I had to remove from the closet: half a dozen coats and jackets, vacuum cleaner, chair cushions, Christmas tree, 3 sleeping bags, Christmas box, Halloween box, pull-up bar, box full of shoes we never wear, box full of gloves and scarves we use once a year, beanbag chair and footrest, and several random sand toys.
Finally, I opened the box I thought might be hiding the ball. It had a few game boxes, one of which was on its side and fell open to dump the entire contents into the bottom of the box. I found beach floaties, a tote bag that I needed 8 months ago, a bag of crayons, more sand toys....AND the birth ball!!!
And then I had to put everything back. (Commence more grunting and straining and pulling and contractions.) Our closet looks super organized and nice right now, though!
Then I realized that the plug was missing. It would be pointless to fill the ball and not be able to keep the air inside of it! But I was so, so tired. Back to the couch for a rest. I thought a bit about where the plug could be. I watched a YouTube video on how to make your own plug using duct tape (but I don't think we have any duct tape...of course). Then, I remembered that I typically kept the plug with my paintbrushes. (Where else would I keep it?!)
Paintbrushes were back upstairs in the spare bedroom closet. I had to move more boxes. Finally, I pulled out the "paint" box, which was really heavy...probably heavier than I should be lifting without having the proper control over it. Seriously, who knew that a couple dozen tubes of acrylic paint, a few blocks of polymer clay, and a crapload of fancy paper would weigh so much!? (Ok, now that I type out a bit of what is actually in that box, it makes total sense for it to weigh the equivalent of a small whale.)
And, of course, I had to empty the whole box to make sure I wouldn't miss a tiny, white, two-inch ball plug. The good news, though, is that I found it! (With the paintbrushes, where it belongs! Silly!) And that box looks super organized and nice now.
Boxes back in the closet, and no onset of labor, I headed back down the stairs. (Also, I gave the kids a bath while I was organizing the paint box, to keep them out of my stuff. So I had to dry the munchkins off and help them get dressed before I could complete my birth ball quest.)
Pump: check! Ball: check! Plug: check! I let Bug and Gizmo pump the ball up most of the way. Which was really nice, because they thought it was a fun game, even though I could tell it was wearing them out! Plus, that meant I didn't have to do the hard work. But I did finish it up and place the plug.
Then, I sat on the couch while the boys rolled around on the ball. We'll see how much I actually use the dang thing. I'm beginning to wonder if the hassle was even worth it!
Monday, April 22, 2013
I recently hit the 37 week mark of my pregnancy. Which means baby gets a "full term" stamp of approval, and is allowed to debut any time now. Yay!
But I am throwing Bug a party for his 5th birthday in less than two weeks, and I refuse to allow this baby to come before then! (As a note, Bug was born at 38+4 weeks, Gizmo born at 39 weeks...so my track record says I won't make it to 40 weeks.)
The hubs is convinced baby will come before the party. I think he just wants to stress me out! But there is a part of me that is worried that will come true. Mostly, the allergy part of me.
Spring hit the South full force a couple weeks ago, and a thick coat of pollen settled over everything. And my body reacted with headache, watery eyes, congestion, sniffles, sore throat, ad nauseum.
Most of my symptoms have let up, but I am still blowing my nose frequently....and productively. And every nose blow, I'm worried that I will either put myself into labor, or pee my pants.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Then I realized that I should probably make a more complete grocery list. ("We are almost out of milk, I guess.") So I planned our menu for the week and wrote out my list.
Then I sat on the couch and realized I was feeling really lazy. Candy? or Couch? Candy.......or couch?
Then lunch rolled around. And I still hadn't showered. But there was still time in the day for all that. And I lazed around some more.
Then I fell asleep on the couch. I totally wasn't planning on taking a nap. But I was sitting there on the couch already. And the kids weren't climbing all over me. And it was so comfy. And I was so tired (getting up several times every night to pee will do that to you.)
When I woke up, I had to change a poopy diaper. And I tried convincing the kids to put all the books back on the bookshelves (sure, they weren't climbing on me during my nap, but they were pulling every single book off the shelf). And then my dad called. And we talked for a while about politics (ugh) and tree frogs in the hospital (he works at a hospital in Florida).
Finally, I realized that we didn't have any spaghetti sauce to go on that big, yummy-looking spaghetti squash I was hoping to eat for dinner. So I commanded the kids to put the books back on the shelf while I ran (ha!) upstairs to take a quick shower.
Showered, dressed, kids' clothes in hand. And they even put away the books!
New shirts. New shorts ("No, just keep those underwear, I forgot to grab a new pair.") Socks and shoes. I grabbed my grocery list....AND a coupon. And headed out the door.
Apparently, once I walked into the grocery store, I was too concerned about picking out my bell peppers, that I totally missed the carts full of Easter candy and other paraphernalia RIGHT. BY. THE. ENTRANCE.
I got my fresh fruits and veggies and headed toward another cluster of Easter stuff. But there was no candy to be found...except for one lonely box of Cadbury eggs. I put them in my cart.
Then, over by the bread, there were a few more carts. And one had some Easter candy in it!!! I was checking to see if I wanted any of that candy when I realized the cart actually belonged to someone. I could have died. I apologized to the lady for trying to steal candy right out of her cart, and asked her where the Easter candy was. She said it was by the front. (I still didn't see it.) And then I tried to avoid her for the remainder of our grocery run.
Finally, I gave up and checked out. (And I forgot to use my coupon.) Then, as I'm pushing my cart out the door, I see all the candy. RIGHT. BY. THE. ENTRANCE. But it was too late, I had a gallon of ice cream in my cart already.
I felt miserable. Shopping with two kids while pregnant is no picnic. Plus, I had gone through all the effort to shower and get out of the house, specifically to get candy, and I was coming home with one measly box of Creme eggs....and a bunch of fresh fruits and veggies. (So sad, right?) And to top it all off, I embarrassed myself by rifling through somebody else's cart! I really felt so sad that I could have cried. And the coupon!! I always forget the coupon!
Luckily, I have a great husband who is willing to stop at the store on his way home from work to get me cheap Easter candy.
Then after dinner, I proceeded to eat oatmeal creme pies...instead of the candy that Hubby brought me. And if I wasn't typing this blog post, I would be lounging on the couch.
Pregnancy makes me both lazy and crazy.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
When all the boys were back in the house, Gizmo took off his shoes and socks. He is really good at putting his shoes away, and his socks into the dirty laundry hamper (which is through the kitchen, in the laundry room).
Off Gizmo went to take care of his socks, when all the sudden I hear him crying dramatically in the kitchen. He came into the living room and settled onto my lap in a ball of tears.
"What's wrong!!!???" I asked, "Are you hurt?"
"What happened? Why are you crying? Are you sad about something?"
"Yeah. My socks!" it was kind of hard to understand what he was saying, through all the tears.
"Yeah!" more crying.
"What happened to your socks? Did you put them in the laundry?"
"No. My socks in garbage!" even more crying. Really, very dramatic, very sad crying.
"You threw your socks in the garbage?" I'm beginning to understand, and I am amused.
"Yeeeeah." another breakdown of tears.
So Gizmo had accidentally put his socks in the garbage, instead of the laundry. And he was very upset about it. Especially since the trash had been taken out recently and he couldn't reach the socks on his own, to move them to the laundry. I'm sorry to say I burst out laughing once I understood what happened. Poor kid.
I tried to console Gizmo as I asked Hubby to retrieve the socks. Once Gizmo knew that his socks had been safely moved to their proper location, he calmed down pretty quickly. And with a sniffly, quivering voice, he said "thank you" to his father, for saving his socks.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
First off, my uterus is so huge and high up that my ribs are really sore (and ohmygosh, I still have over a month left to go, my uterus is going to get so freaking huge!!!) Seriously, why are my ribs sore? Wouldn't it make more sense for my uterus to be sore? My ribs are made out of tough bone, after all! But, then again, when I am having a contraction, my uterus feels like it is made out of stone. So maybe there is a reason for my ribs being so sore.
Now, these uterus of marble contractions are completely unpredictable. As they should be; BH's, which means they "aren't real". Which really is a load of baloney, because I know those suckers are doing something and have a purpose...even if they aren't actively dilating my cervix.
Anyway....unpredictable. But yet, so very predictable.
If I don't drink enough water: contractions.
If I drink water and let my bladder get even a tiny bit "full": contractions.
If Gizmo crawls all over my lap like he always does: contractions.
If I walk up or down the stairs: contractions.
You see what I'm getting at here. Pretty much everything gives me contractions. And no matter how much I would love to just go into labor right now and have this baby (really, there is no sarcasm there, anything to -not- be pregnant anymore)...he needs to wait at least 8 weeks, because I have a pirate party to plan and throw for a soon-to-be 5 year old.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
The next morning, I called our family doctor's office. Now, none of us have actually gone to this family doctor, except the Hubs (for a work physical). But she came recommended as a doctor who is friendly toward natural parenting, and we were told she would be willing to take on our whole family. The receptionist on the line was rude. I asked if the office had ultrasound capabilities. She was skeptical about why I would even need an ultrasound. I briefly explained that my care provider is not licensed in the state, and could not order an ultrasound, but I would like one as proof of pregnancy in order to acquire a birth certificate. She then said they did not have ultrasound, but another office location from the practice did. (So all that asking about why I would even need one was needlessly nosy.) I got the number for the other location.
Then I called the other office. The receptionist on the line was rude. This receptionist had a list of problems with me asking about an ultrasound:
1. I was not yet a patient. (Why ever the heck can I not be!?!? I was told that the doctor at the first location was willing to take me on as a patient!)
2. Even if I -was- a patient, you can't hop around to the different locations (Why ever the heck not!?!? Isn't that part of what you do when you are in a practice!?!?)
3. I would have to have an appointment with the doctor first, and then have another appointment for the ultrasound. (Why ever the heck can I not just have the ultrasound as my first appointment, as long as I fill out all the required paperwork for becoming a patient in the first place!?!?!?!)
4. Rude receptionist doesn't even know if the doctor -would- order an ultrasound. (WHY ever the heck not!?!?! I am the one trying to -hire- the doctor, if I am asking for an ultrasound, there is really no reason for the doc to refuse to give me one!!!!)
I was pretty short right back with this rude receptionist. And I kind of, might have hung up on her after a -very- curt "thank you". And, no, I did not schedule an appointment. I did, however, promptly start crying after the connection was cut. Rude receptionists. (Later, talking to my dad, an RN, he said he was pretty sure "rude" was a work requirement for medical receptionists. I am inclined to believe him.)
So, I called the Hubby, in tears, to complain about having a really crappy, depressed type of day. I told him all about the rude receptionist, and all my worries about going into get a medical ultrasound anyway. (They are going to force me to get prenatal care, they are going to bombard me with fear tactics about home birth, they are going to call CPS on me......yeah...I think I have a problem with doctors!)
And here I was, trying to alleviate my depression by scheduling an ultrasound. And things were only getting worse.
After about half an hour, Hubs called me back and told me that we had an appointment for an ultrasound that night at 9pm, with a private company for an "elective ultrasound". I was hesitant (do I -really- want an ultrasound? what if they find some weird abnormality and I have to seek obstetrical care anyway? why do they make appointments so late at night?) but grateful that I didn't have to worry about it anymore.
So that night, we got the kids dressed in their pj's and drove to the ultrasound office. And drove around. And drove around. It was late, dark, and there were business offices everywhere, but we could not find where we were supposed to be!!! Finally, after carefully scrutinizing the GPS on Hubby's phone, we were able to locate the office. And we were still early!
We finally got into the ultrasound room. Belly exposed. Goo squirted on belly. Ultrasound wand applied and BAM!!!! First image very clearly, very unmistakably, very directly revealed the sex of our baby.
We are having a BOY! A BOY! ANOTHER BOY!
Cue shock, denial, excitement, sadness, joy....
I couldn't stop laughing. And then the ultrasound technician started making fun of baby boy's penis wiggling around (from my laughing). Awkward.
A boy! He has a beautiful heartbeat, big feet, a nice well-placed placenta. (I have a nice, well-placed placenta? We have a nice, well-placed placenta?) And no obvious defects or malformations....but it wasn't a diagnostic test, so, you know, take that with a grain of salt.
A boy! Poor Bug walked right out of the ultrasound room when we told him he was going to have another baby brother. (Drama much, 4 year old??) Gizmo doesn't get it yet. But Bug was setting his highest hopes of having a baby girl. He even picked out his favorite girl name (that we had approved of, prior) and he thinks we still need to name the baby this name. Uhm....no. But, if I can get over the fact that we are having a boy, then he can, too.
Speaking of me getting over it: I admit that I'm a little sad. This is where I start wondering if I'll -ever- have a girl. We want a big family, but what if we have 6 boys...7, 8 boys!? Can I do that?? I just have to remind myself that there is still time. And even if I never get a girl, I will still love all my boys.
I actually had a dream a couple weeks ago that I gave birth to a boy. He was beautiful, and squishy. And I was completely and utterly in love with him! I woke up with a strong realization that even if I had another boy, I would still love him. That dream was a tender mercy, for sure!
So, these last weeks will fly by, and we will welcome into our family ANOTHER little boy!