the first week

 

Day 1:  Love.

The first few hours after giving birth have been the most beautiful moments of my life.  The nurses leave, the doctors leave, they dim the lights.  I got to put Connor up to my chest to nurse for the first time.  Jeff and I got to stare at this new baby that just minutes earlier was being nourished and perfected inside my belly.  Aaaaaaand I got to eat!  I remembered that the hospital had this amazing "Big Breakfast," they call it.  Eggs, sausage, home fries and the best french toast I ever tasted.  So I got to love on my new baby and eat one-handed.  Opening syrup containers with one hand is something that requires skill (which I have).

Day 2:  Rest & Relaxation.

I know, right?  How can a newborn and R & R go together?  At the hospital they do.  Somehow your baby will miraculously sleep four hour intervals and people will bring you pumpkin pie at your beckon call.  Visitors will bring blankets for your baby that you don't have to buy and nurses fill up your ice water for you and ask how you're feeling.  You have a bed that inclines at the push of a button.  What's not to love?  I soak up every second of being waited on in the hospital - let's face it, it's not going to be that way much longer.

Day 3:  Overwhelmed.

Jeff and I continued our tradition of getting Wendy's on the way home from the hospital.  We put the baby on the floor next to the kitchen table in his car seat, snarf down some pretzel bread sandwiches and admire our new one.

Then the big brother came home.  My mother-in-law big me farewell by shouting Good Luck! on the way out.  It kind of scared me.  And it should have.

That evening was a blur.  I was nursing every two hours, Patrick was frantically running around with his tractors and simultaneously screaming I play with you Mom, I play with you!, dinner needed to be made, towels needed folded, counters needed wiped, and I wanted a nap.  The only thing that got accomplished was the nursing.  First priority.

In bed that night I couldn't sleep, as tired as I was.  My stomach literally ached with anxiety.  So many questions loomed in my head:  will Patrick wake up tonight?  Will we be able to get him back to sleep?  Am I ever going to sleep again?  Will the baby be awake all night?  Will I be ever be able to leave the house again?  Will Patrick ever be potty trained?  Will Connor take a pacifier?  Will I feel fat forever?  Will I be able to poop again? 

Seriously.  I literally feared the next two years of my life and begged Jesus to take that fear away.  I was scared that this was my new postpartum depression, that I wouldn't escape it this time either.  Should I call for meds in the morning?  And on and on and on. 

Then I slept.  Three beautiful hours, to be exact.  When I awoke I was a new person.  I had no fears.  I had no stomach ache.  I had no anxiety.  Jesus had taken it all from me, telling me to take it one day at a time, and more importantly telling me that I could handle it.  That I am strong enough.

Day 4:  Relief.

The next day was a new day.  I was completely relieved that those anxious feelings had subsided.  Now that I had a new energy and a new motivation (faith) I was able to relish in being home with my two children, watching Patrick play and watching Connor observe the new world around him.  It was a beautiful thing.  A long, long, long day but a beautiful thing.

Day 5:  Tears

It was a bit of a roller coaster, that first week.  I knew I would need to get a good cry out but I wasn't sure when it would fit into my busy day.  As soon as Jeff walked in the door I ran into our bedroom, threw myself onto the bed and sobbed into my pillow.  He came in and rubbed my leg, Everything okay hunny?  No, it's not.  Why are you gone all day?  Why aren't you here with me?  I miss you so so so much. 

So that's where the crying came in:  my days are very long right now and consequently very lonely.  I miss adult interaction, especially with my husband.  It's like when he is home, everything just falls into place like it should.  He's on my side, I'm on his side.  And I missed him (still do!).  And that's okay.

Day 6:  Balance

Having two kids is a bit of a juggling act.  I've been getting to know Connor - his sleep patterns, his eating patterns, what he loves and what he hates.  This was the day where I sort of figured out when I can make time to just interact with Patrick and how I would make dinner or shower and still take care/love on my newborn.  It's definitely gotten easier but every day is different and I have to be open-minded that one day may be amazing but the next may not (and probably won't) be.  And once again, that's okay.

Day 7:  Bonding

Yay!  A whole day with Connor!  My mother-in-law (aka Saint Jane) is going to continue to take Patrick on Mondays for me.  This way Patrick will get out of the house and get to play with some different toys.  Plus he just loves going there.  She must let him have a lot of snacks.

Anyways, Connor and I were able to nap together in the recliner, kiss eachother all day long and just simply enjoy our new and perfect relationship as mother and son.  We also went on an outing to my school where we avoided students had lunch with the teachers.  It was so awesome to see their bright faces and to gossip chat about school happenings and crazy birth stories.  Connor and I decided this will be our weekly outing so we can get some fresh air.  I also told him we might make stops at a.) Target  b.)  Old Navy or c.)  The Winery Starbucks.  He's cool with that. 

Cheers to Week #2 with two kids! 

connor's birth story

Wow.  Once again, I was blessed with a completely amazing and perfect labor and delivery.  I've said it before and I'll say it again:  there is nothing in the world as miraculous, intense and magnificent as birthing a child.

So this time it all started on Sunday.

I woke up feeling totally awesome and spontaneously decided to lug Patrick to church, despite Jeff's inability to join us and my previous decision that a 39-week prego has the right to forgo keeping the Sabbath.  I had energy, spunk and plenty of rest.  Patrick had been particularly hard to deal with the entire weekend so I was really taking a long shot.  It was a bust, like usual, but I felt refreshed, like usual.

Later that night we all attended a Halloween party at my aunt's - everyone remarking on how "small" I was for being due in four days.  Thanks, but no thanks.  I felt huge.  My Grandma and I were chatting and I was telling her how great I felt; that's when she said uh oh, you won't be feeling great tomorrow.

Good call, Grandma!

That night around nine o'clock I said my goodnights to Jeff, ironically asking him if he thought this would be our last Sunday night without a baby.  (He said yes.)  I went to bed, gradually drifting into a deep sleep when all of the sudden I felt a gush.  Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh.  Is that my water breaking?  I run to the bathroom, wipe, and realize it's my mucus plug.  Shooey, I'm not quite ready.  I did some quick research online just to make sure, told Jeff we probably had 24 hours until d-day and went back to bed.  Two minutes later, another gush.  This time there was no mucus, just wetness, tinged in pink.  Two minutes after that, I felt my first contraction.

I still wasn't sure if my water had broken so I called Labor & Delivery at the hospital who of course told me they would have to check me out to be completely sure.  I told Jeff I would just run to the hospital quick and would most likely be home before midnight.  I had five contractions on the way there and they felt exactly as they had with my labor with Patrick.  So even if the membranes hadn't ruptured, I knew I was in labor nonetheless.  After checking into the hospital and being admitted, the nurse came in to do the "DID YOUR WATER REALLY BREAK?  TEST."  After she checked to see how dilated I was, her hand came out and so did the rest of the water - ALL OVER.  At that point I was 3 cm dilated and gave Jeff the call he was probably dreading waiting for. 

While I waited for Jeff to arrive at the hospital I turned on The House Bunny and worked through some easy contractions.  By the time the movie was over I was doubled over in pain every four minutes or so.  Thinking back, I am so surprised at how intense my contractions became in such a short amount of time.  Since I wasn't ready for an epidural, Jeff and I took a walk around Labor & Delivery and Postpartum.  Even though the contractions were pretty insanely painful at this point and were easier to control while standing (with Jeff to lean/scream into), I just had too much pressure on my hips and couldn't walk any longer so that lasted only 20 minutes.  A little later, I specifically remember looking at the clock.  It was 2:30 am, I had about ten contractions that felt like death and told Jeff "alright hun, enough of this shit - time for the epidural."

My anesthesiologist looked like a Calvin Klein model, although I didn't have the energy to notice while he was preparing my back.  I make Jeff leave the room when I get epidurals - I'm always afraid I'm going to ralph all over and he'll never want to kiss me again.  I know, it's immature.  Anyways, getting the epidural sucked; I felt lightheaded and yucky until it was finally in.  Although I get an epidural to feel better, it feels worse in a lot of ways.  The sensation of your legs/butt/half of your back being numb is horrific.  You can't switch positions, you can't scooch your body in any way and your legs feel like redwood tree trunks.  Literally.  Can't.  Feel.  Anything.

After getting all numbed up Jeff and I were able to get a little shut-eye since we'd been up all night.  At some point in the morning I realized my epidural had a "hot spot" and I began to feel contractions again on my left side.  They were coming about every minute and lasting a minute or more.  All I can say is:  OMG.  The doctor came in, checked me, said I was completely dilated and that she'd be back momentarily.  When she got back she looked at my face and said "Now that's a face that's ready."  I must have looked like hell.  They shooed my parents out and I started pushing against the contractions immediately.  Ten minutes and five pushes later, Connor made his grand entrance into the world!  They laid him on my chest and I bawled like a baby.  My tears were hot and wet just like his perfect, solid body.  He was so heavy!  I looked at Jeff and the tears in his eyes, both of us realizing our family suddenly had grown by one and all was right in the world.  No, all wasn't right.  All was perfect.

 

our angel is here

Our sweet Connor made his entrance into the world on Monday morning, October 28th at 9:07 am.  He weighed in at 8 lbs 10 oz and is 22 inches long.  God has blessed us immeasurably.  I am working on his birth story and cannot wait to share it with you!

finally a scientist with a brain + KK engaged

If you're in the loop on pregnancy news, maybe you heard that the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists have narrowed down the "full term" label.  Instead of being considered full term at 37 weeks, they've changed it to 39 weeks.  You can read the full article here.

FINALLY.

Here's why this makes a heck of a lot more sense (and I'll try to be polite):  Women who are ignorant to their situation or those who don't have much of a "backbone" tend to take their doctor's words to heart without asking questions, or they take in the plethora of internet information out there very literally.  So when they hear that they're "full term" at 37 weeks, it makes them much more likely to schedule a medically unnecessary delivery because they think the baby's ready.  Please tell me you've noticed how many women already have a pre-determined date for their delivery?  What the hell is going on with that?  One of my favorite bloggers has a due date of April 28th but a delivery date of April 21st.  This is someone that I respect and agree with almost 100% of the time, but are you kidding me?  To seriously schedule a delivery date?  Now granted, she has to have cesareans and I do not know her medical history, but I sure would like to know because it boggles my mind.

Let me back up just a bit by saying that in any case where there is a medical issue of some sort, (high blood pressure, etc.) obviously inductions can be and are necessary.  The same goes with cesareans - they can and are necessary for certain situations.

Let me give you an example of a cesarean that I don't believe was necessary:  someone very close to me had a baby who was breech for weeks heading up to her due date.  The doctor told her there was a less than 1% chance that the baby would turn on its own.  (Now I didn't go to medical school for 12 years but I've heard plenty of breech babies turning within hours of spontaneously laboring down.)  So here's this girl:  huge, uncomfortable, very ready to give birth.  She gives in and decides a c-section on her due date is the best option.  Now all her babies will be cesarean births and she has to deal with that painstaking recovery over and over.  There is a possibility that she may have had to go through all of that (even a couple weeks later), but can we just let nature do it's thing, pa-lease??

Here's my issue with inductions:  so many times they lead to cesareans.  I suppose that's where all the pre-determined delivery dates come in.  I'm not kidding, I know more women (these days) who have cesareans than they do vaginal births.  I'm not saying that a vaginal birth is in any way "better" than a c-section, because it's not - a birth is a miracle however it happens.  But come on, to electively choose a cesarean?  It's a surgery!  With all the same risks involved in any surgery!  And there are all those women who have had cesareans for an actual medical reason that have got to be thinking why would you choose this if you don't have to?

Anyways, I'm so so happy with the new terminology for what constitutes a "full term" baby.  Even my own doctors keep telling me "Well, when you reach 39 weeks we can talk about inducing you."

No thanks.  I'll let God be in charge of that.

By the way, I tried searching up an awesomely beautiful pregnancy picture from Pinterest for this post and these are a few that popped up:

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Something else everyone's talking about:

Kim & Kanye are engaged!  Not going to lie, I'm kind of excited - just because I really enjoy seeing people in love.  I mean, what's not celebrate?  Who cares if Kanye is one of the most arrogant idiots on the planet?  He loves his baby, that's obvious, and I love me a good baby daddy.  Congrats you two lovebirds!