A stream of conciousness post that will serve as birth control in the future

I'm blogging from the couch, from B's laptop. And while neither of those seem note-worthy, they are.

I'm banished to the couch since this morning I had really bad cramping and bleeding, which had seemed to stop. I'll spare you the details, but it was a lot. When I called the OB exchange, the doctor who called me back requested that I stay off my feet today and if it happens again, I have to go to the ER. It was a bit of a bummer, because my cousins have been in town for most of the week and are heading back to Texas today. Bedrest=not being able to go to my mom's to say goodbye to them. And that makes me sad.

But what makes me even sadder is that L *sob* spilled water all over my laptop last night. He was playing on pbskids.org, and took a drink of his water. Just as I was about to tell him to take it into the kitchen, it toppled, and I swear it was in slow motion. I immediately started sobbing, and couldn't stop for a while. B thinks he might have saved it but we won't know for a while. I because quite dramatic, saying that it was my only connection to the outside world at this point. The worst part, though, is I totally yelled at L. Just typing that makes me tear up again. I don't claim to be the perfect mother...far from it, in fact. But I realized last night that I very rarely yell at L. And I feel so guilty that the one time I did, it was for something he did by pure accident.

He also has a little cold, and came over to talk to me about the computer situation and I told him to get out of my face because he was sick. I know I am sleep-deprived and hormonal, but I cannot believe I said that to my kid. (Do you hear that? It's the sound of people unfollowing me. It's okay...I understand.) I am so worried about G getting sick in the first few months (hello, flu season). I'm just as afraid of me getting sick since I am breastfeeding him.

Last night, I went into his room and snuggled him after he went to sleep, telling him how much I love him and how sorry I am. I promised him I'd take him to get snow cones today, but evidently he'll have to get a rain check on that now that I can't get off the couch. Luckily, he hasn't said a word about it so I don't think he remembers. I'll make up for it in the next couple of days.

Breastfeeding is going well, at least. G loves to nurse, and while I know that sometimes he just nurses to soothe himself, for now, I am okay with that. He loves to be held and is so attached to me. In fact, sometimes if B is holding him, he'll cry for me. Then I feel bad about that too. But a little part of me kind of likes it just a little. Sshhhh.

B is being unbelievable as usual. He makes dinner. He does the dishes. He does the laundry. He changes 90% of the diapers. He brushes L's teeth and puts him to bed. I don't deal well with lack of sleep (obviously). I am one of those people who requires 8-10 hours a night, so the deprivation renders me somewhat useless. B just says he knows how hard I am working to keep G fed (boyfriend eats, on average, every 1-2 hours) and he needs to take care of me since I am taking care of our baby. Best. Husband. Ever.

He goes back to work on Tuesday and I'm a little nervous. I'm not nervous about being home alone with G. That, I'm kind of excited about. The silly thing I'm nervous about is getting L to school and bringing G along. Getting there on time...battling a germy preschool...it's a bit daunting. But I'm sure that once I do it one (or seven) times, it will become easier.

I miss spin class. I miss my girls at the gym. I miss my coworkers. I miss being able to run to Target when the world becomes too much.

And the difference this time around (as compared to my postpartum days with L) is that I know these feelings are normal and it's a bit easier to take a deep breath, eat some chocolate, and breathe in the smell of G and remember that this too, shall pass.

Lessons Learned one week post-partum

* Giving birth to an 8 pound, 10 ounce baby results in much more body soreness than a 6 pound, 15 ounce baby. Crying in a hot shower helps the pain.

* After holding a newborn, snuggling a 3 and 1/2 year old will feel like he's a teenager...long legs, huge arms...even his ears seem big.

*Nursing tank tops are worth their weight in breastmilk. (And breastmilk is more precious than gold.)

* It isn't ideal, but nursing, talking on the phone, and going to the bathroom...simultaneously, is possible.

* Seeing a big brother kiss his little brother's head without being asked is the cutest thing EVER.

* Showers kind of seem futile when, upon stepping out, you rush to grab your boxes of maxipads and breast pads.

* When you are really, really, really tired, the tops of your eye sockets hurt. Badly.

* Triple Paste is God's gift to diaper rash-covered baby butts.

* No matter what, getting twice the amount of sleep you are used to getting feels glorious. Even if you are used to getting one hour at a time.

* Sometimes newborns smile. And it's the cutest thing ever. And don't tell me it's gas. It's because their mommies make them really happy. End of story.

* Breastfeeding is the single most difficult, rewarding, amazing experience when it works. It provides a bond like no other and the beauty of it is inspiring.

* When your husband changes every diaper all.night.long, he can't get much sexier.

* Dozing off while breastfeeding at some point is inevitable.

* Lanisoh does not come out of microfiber couches.

* It's tough for an only child to adjust to his world being rocked with a new brother, but stickers given unexpectedly for good behavior and helping out make a world of difference.

* A DVR is crucial for midnight feedings.

* Bringing dinner to a family in the first week post-partum is a better gift than cash. And it makes no difference what it is. They'll eat it and they'll be too tired to notice if it tastes good.

* Babies love to poop in just-changed diapers.

* Realizing you lost 21 pounds in less than a week will take all pain away, even an excruciating clogged milk duct.

* Twitter friends double as breastmilk cheerleaders, worry removers, advice givers, and hormonal rant listeners.

* The postpartum contractions, nipple soreness, sleep deprivation and emotional instability are absolutely nothing compared to the heart-bursting joy a new baby brings. Without a doubt, it's well worth it.

Grayson's birth story...part three

If you missed part two of Gray's birth story, you can catch up here.

When Karla, the nurse, told me that I was at a 10, I looked over at Brian and Audrey. They had the same expression on their faces and although I'll never forget it, I wish I'd had a camera to capture it. Their eyebrows were raised, big smiles on their faces, but they both had a bit of fear in their eyes. When I asked if they were nervous, they both just nodded, but kept smiling. Hilarious.

Karla came back with the enormous leg rests and because I had such a small dose of drugs, I was able to help her get my legs in them. She watched the monitor and asked if I could feel the contractions. For some reason, at first, I thought I couldn't, but when my next one came, I could definitely feel them, and the urge to push.

A few minutes earlier, I had had some strong stomach pains that I could tell were different from the contractions. Karla figured out that my bladder was full, and after fixing that problem via catheter, I was still having weird pains as my little man moved further and further down. However, once I was at a ten, the pain was gone. I could tell things were exactly where they needed to be and even though I could feel the contractions and the baby coming down, I felt amazing.

Audrey came on one side of me and Brian was on the other. I practiced pushed a few times, and the two of them and Karla cheered me on. The feeling of support in the room was incredible.

My doctor had previously guessed that this baby wouldn't have much hair. However, after my first set of pushes, Karla informed me that the doctor was "a big fat liar" because she could see his hair.

"Is it cute?" I asked, and everyone laughed.

"Gina, the top of his head is adorable," Karla assured me.

After another set of practice pushes, and everyone in the room oohing and ahhing over seeing that cute head, I asked for a birthing mirror. When I was giving birth to Logan, everything was so intense. I was on so many drugs that I had a terrible high, and watching in the mirror was not even a consideration. Hearing myself request a mirror, as silly and simple as it sounds, was another reminder of how different an experience I was having.

Karla left to get me a mirror and came back to practice a few more pushes. I was a little nervous to see exactly what my hoo-ha looked like in the mirror, but when I peeked in, it took my breath away...in a great way. Seeing him get closer as I pushed was awe-inspiring, in the truest sense of the word. I could still feel the contractions starting, increasing, myself open up as I pushed, and the contraction ending. Watching the look of awe on Audrey and Brian's faces made my hair stand on end.

"The top of this baby's head is getting cuter and cuter," Karla giggled. "Even if his face isn't cute, you can just get lots of adorable pictures of his head," and left to call the doctor, making me promise not to push anymore.

And that was the tone of the delivery. We laughed. Everyone teased each other. I ate ice chips. We laughed some more. When my doctor came in, we all immediately started teasing him about his terrible guess regarding the baby's hair. He took a look and insisted that that wasn't "a lot." We laughed some more. And for the 476th time, I mentioned how much more fun this experience was than the first time I gave birth.

My doctor got dressed and got ready for the big catch. He started stretching me out and with the first push, started talking to my little man, calling him by name. As his head came out, the doctor laughed, saying, "He's winking at me!"

And with the last set of pushes, everyone in the room cheered.

"Here he comes!"

"What a big boy!'

"He's out already!"

"Gina, you did it!"

Brian was at my side, peering at his second son, as proud as can be. Audrey was down by my feet, jumping up and down. Karla was grinning ear to ear. The doctor was suctioning him, promising he was fine and I'd hear him cry in just a second.

That cry was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard.

The doctor put him on my chest, and I got to meet Grayson. Finally.


He cried and cried until I started talking.

"I'm your mommy," I introduced myself, and encouraged him to keep telling me whatever it was that he wanted to "say."

Immediately, he became calm and peaceful.

After we got acquainted, another nurse took him to weigh him. My doctor guessed 7 pounds, 10 ounces.

"You think he's that big?" I asked, as Karla rolled her eyes and insisted, "He's way bigger than that."

She was right....



B called over, "G, he's 8 pounds 10 ounces! And his hands are huge!! Wait till you see them!"

As my doctor helped me deliver the placenta, he mentioned that he was glad I got an epidural, since that was an awfully big baby for a petite girl to deliver, and part of the pain I was feeling was due to his size. Plus, the small rip and few stitches I endured would have been much worse sans pain medication.

I realized that it didn't matter. I had fun delivering my baby, who was perfect. Beautiful. And mine.

I looked at his protective daddy, shading the light from Gray's eyes as he was examined.



And when I finally got my hands back on my precious Gray, kissed my little man for the first time, I knew that everything happened exactly as it should have.


Welcome to the world, Baby Gray. I wish I could tell you how much I love you...how complete our lives feel...how ecstatic we are to have you in our family. But something tells me I'll never find the words.

Grayson's Birth Story: Part 2

For the prequel to Baby Gray's birth story, start here.

We rode the elevator up to Labor and Delivery, where we entered a triage room and the receptionist got every last personal detail. At one point, I expected her to ask what sexual position we conceived the baby.

Finally, I was given a beautiful hospital gown and told to make myself comfortable on the bed. A nurse came in, introduced herself, and proceeded to give me the most painful exam to determine my dilation. Nothing my doctor had done to bring on labor even came close to the pain this woman put me through. I swear I felt her hand in my throat.

"You're only at a 4," she sniffed, and instructed me to walk for an hour and come back at 5 pm. She explained that if I hadn't progressed, they'd call my doctor at that point and find out what he wanted them to do. Since he had already promised that he'd instruct them to break my water, I was not happy about walking, but I certainly didn't want to leave and return later.

So we walked.

And walked.

And took stairs two at a time.

And walked.

And took a break when my contractions got even closer and stronger.

And walked.

And smiled politely at the people who jumped out of our way in the hallways. I know I looked funny in a hospital gown, robe, and tennis shoes. Evidently I looked dangerous as well. Perhaps they were afraid my water would break on their shoes...who knows.

After an hour, I re-entered Labor and Delivery, hoping that I'd progressed.

The next exam, which was, thankfully, done by a gentler nurse, showed a whole lot of nothin. She left to call my doctor and returned, smiling, saying he wanted to admit me and break my water.

I got set up in my own room, had vitals and blood taken, and was given a full bag of fluids as directed by my doctor. Apparently, he had a sneaking suspicion that I might need an epidural, and wanted me to be well hydrated in order to avoid blood pressure drops. At that moment, my friend/coach/spin teacher extraordinaire, Audrey, arrived. As soon as she saw me, she teared up, and I sternly admonished her, saying I wasn't ready to cry yet.

I almost changed my mind when the house doctor came in with his water breaking tool, but I barely held it together. He promised it wouldn't hurt more than a pelvic exam, and thinking about Nurse Ratchett's initial exam, I started trembling. Luckily, I could barely feel it, and I was set up with towels between my legs and any last bit of modesty taken away.

Within five minutes, the contractions that had stopped me in my tracks for the last six and a half hours felt like little gentle uterine massages. These new ones came hard and fast and got stronger and stronger. I was screaming. I was clawing the bed. I was trying to breathe through them as Audrey and Brian prompted me, but it wasn't helping. Brian came over and started to rub my hip at one point, and I yelled at him not to touch me.

Audrey was timing them, and they were coming between 30 and 45 seconds apart. None of the research I had done in my hopes for a natural birth had warned me about this. Contractions this hard and fast were only supposed to happen at the very end. I wanted to change positions, but I didn't have enough time between them to get off the bed and onto the birthing ball, or even onto all fours. Intense doesn't begin to describe it.

I screamed about the contractions, then as Brian and Audrey told me how well I was doing, I lamented at what a baby I was. This was not going as I had hoped. After an hour of this, non-stop, I began to get nauseous.

The next few minutes were a blur. I don't know exactly what I said, but I ended up asking for the epidural. A small part of me was disappointed that I didn't make it, but another part of me knew that living through an hour of that level of pain was an accomplishment. I wanted to avoid an epidural because of how sick it made me feel, but I couldn't feel much worse at the moment.

The anesthesiologist came in after what felt like 30 minutes but was probably closer to 3. Between contractions, I explained that I wanted the lowest dose possible. He rolled his eyes and told me that it wouldn't be enough, but he'd do what I wanted.

They sat me up and I gripped a pillow, giving it everything I had to stay still through my violent contractions. B hung on to me to keep me from moving, and I warned him to move away to avoid getting my water on his shoes. (The fact that I was concerned about ruining his work clothes still makes me giggle. Priorities, people.)

I settled back down and realized that the epidural worked.

Only on the right side of my body.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. It was at this point that I tweeted "I am dying here." (Oh...I didn't mention that I tweeted updates through my labor?)

I called the nurse, who helped me roll to my left side, explaining that sometimes that happens, and this way, the medicine could move onto my left side as well.

For the next hour, I screamed more. The pain was almost more intense because it was only in the top of my left leg and in my hip. The nurse came back to check me to find that I was only at a 6 and the drugs should have moved into my left side by then. She explained that she'd call the anesthesiologist, but sometimes women have a window in which the pain medicine doesn't work.

For. the. love.

The anesthesiologist came back in, tried to explain what he was doing to fix the problem, and all I heard was "blah blah blah even it out blah blah again this small amount is not going to work to stop the pain blah blah blah."

But he ended up being my new BFF when whatever it did worked. Although the pain was not even close to being gone, I could tolerate it by moaning and changing positions. Everyone in the room encouraged me to use the pump to get more medicine, but I chose not to. Luckily, the IV fluids had really worked to prevent blood pressure drops. I could still wiggle my toes and move my legs around. I was shaking so hard, as my husband so classily put it, that I looked like a crack fiend, but this labor was no comparison to my terrible experience giving birth to L.

For the next 5 hours, we watched the baseball game. When the contractions got tough, I closed my eyes and listened to Audrey and Brian talk about everything and nothing. Having two people in the room was the best decision I ever made. When the contractions slowed, I was able to join in the chatting.Every few minutes, I'd say something about the fact that I couldn't believe that shortly I would have another baby.

The nurse, Karla, who was fabulous and hilarious, checked me from time to time. She explained that I could push the pump every ten minutes, since it was an extremely minimal dose. I finally pushed it once when she told me that it was a great time for a tiny bit more to keep me at this level through the delivery. I was glad to find that one pump indeed made a minimal difference but after that, I put it out of my reach.

After two more hours, Karla came back in and checked me, and I was at a 9. She said she'd return in an hour and a half to see if I was ready to push.

40 minutes later, I pushed the call button.

"Umm....I think I need to be checked now," I said nervously. "I feel a ton of pressure." (Thank goodness for the small epidural dose.)

The nurse came back in and checked me. "Yep! You are at a 10!"

The trilogy will be complete in tomorrow's post....

Birthing balls, cord clamping, epidurals...oh, my!

Last night, we visited a hospital for a labor and delivery tour that was so un-hospital-esque that it was shocking. Not only is the building and everything in it brand new, there are only eight birthing rooms. Talk about personal.

Of course, the downside to that size of a medical center is that if the baby has to be on oxygen for more than 24 hours, they'll get moved to the local children's hospital. Also, if the rooms are full, they may have to move a mother in recovery in order to make room for a mommy-to-be in labor. However, the nurse giving the tour promised that those things rarely happen.

I've been researching more natural childbirth methods. When I gave birth to L, a nurse pressured me to get an epidural before I felt that I needed it. I gave in, but regretted that. I had almost every negative side effect that epidurals can cause, including my blood pressure dropping, L's blood pressure dropping, fever, severe nausea, and extreme itchiness. In order to counteract the itchiness, I received an IV of Benadryl, which made me so high that I couldn't play Uno. And it wasn't a good high. Just sayin.

So I'm reluctant to get an epidural this time, at least right away. While I'd love to go completely naturally, I wasn't able to find natural childbirth classes in my area and am limited to the information I am finding online or in books. Basically, my goal is to wait as long as possible before getting the epidural. My doctor insists that women in labor aren't typically told that it's too late to get an epidural these days, so I can wait much longer if I do choose to get one.

Some of my Twitter and blog-friends have also introduced me to natural concepts such as mother-led pushing, delayed cord clamping, and immediate baby to breast following the birth (even before the baby is cleaned up). I was thrilled to find that the hospital we visited is completely open to all of them. (And before you comment about the delayed cord clamping, yes, I realize it's very controversial and I am continuing to research it.)

The nurse explained that they have plenty of women who have completely natural births. She added that they have birthing balls and women are encouraged to be as comfortable as possible, as long as she and the baby are safe.

Like I explained before, my doctor is always extraordinarily open to whatever I request. No forceps? Fine. No vacuum? No problem. When I was in labor and that awful epidural wore off right before I pushed, he let me push when I needed to push.

The more I research these things, the more I realize that this is not the norm. I read tweets, blogs, and articles that hospitals are not open to natural childbirth methods. I hear that nurses want to be in charge during deliveries and refuse to listen to the mother.

When I asked the nurse at the hospital about writing a birth plan, she explained that it wasn't even necessary...that they'd follow the lead of me and my doctor and I'd be in charge.

I'm so interested in this subject and I'm interested in the experiences of other mommas out there. Have you had good experiences with more natural methods? Were you told it wasn't an option? Are there other things I should be researching before I go into labor? Good websites, books, etc? I'd appreciate any information or opinions I can get...namaste!