Shortly before Baby G was born, I stocked up on various breastfeeding supplies like nipple cream, breast milk storage bags and breast pads. Today, I packed all of it away into a bag to bring to my friend as I no longer have any need for them. No longer is a misnomer. I never had any need for them and as you might have read earlier, I desperately wanted to.
I have always considered myself fairly aware of the messages society sends to me and as such, I've tried hard not to be dominated by them or to let them rule the way I feel about myself. However, in this case 'breast is best' haunts me and somehow not being able to breastfeed has made me feel like less of a mother. I am painfully aware of it every time I put a bottle to his mouth and I think I subconsciously liken formula feeding to mashing up McDonald's french fries and shoving them down his gullet. TOTALLY irrational, I know, and despite all of the examples of bright, thriving formula fed children in this world (Mr. S being one of them), I can't help but shake off this incredible guilt.
It all began just hours after his birth. While G latched on right away and nursed for 30 solid minutes after birth, his latch became tentative after that. Then he was diagnosed with jaundice and prescribed formula supplementation every 2 hours to help rid his body of the toxins more quickly. I wasn't a fan of the plan, but I was of course more devoted to his health and well being than my need to breastfeed. After he began his foray with bottles, his latch deteriorated from there and every time I went to breast feed him, he not only didn't latch properly, but became angry after a minute or two when it was clear that the breast was not giving at the rate of the bottle. Add onto that the myriad of nurses who came in, all with different techniques. As their shifts rotated throughout the few days, G and I became increasingly frustrated. Every time a new nurse started a shift, they had me 'demonstrate' for them. I swear I had my top down the entire hospital stay, whether in pumping or demonstration for yet another stranger walking through the door.
We were eventually visited by two different lactation consultants before we left the hospital. While their approaches were more similar, in combination with all of the nurses, my head was spinning. I decided that in the very least I would pump and provide him with breast milk that way, so before we left the hospital, we rented a hospital pump for the next month. However, I wasn't quite ready to give up the idea of breastfeeding.
Desperate, I made a one hour appointment with another lactation consultant after we were discharged. When we came into her office, the look on her face as I showed her how upset G got when we attempted to breastfeed said one thing to me: we were a lost cause. She prescribed a nipple shield (it's a plastic cover for the nipple and I'm assuming it works on baby's like G with nipple confusion and poor latch) and while he took to that much more readily, I was told that it was not a replacement and that I needed to continue trying to breastfeed without it and pumping after each feeding, which I did. Every time he fed, I tried breastfeeding first and every time I did this, G got upset. Then I tried the nipple shield and eventually, he got upset with this as well. It was disheartening to see this over and over again. Pumping, for those not familiar, is often a 15-20 minute process during which little interaction can occur with the baby given the equipment attached to your front side. And if used after each feeding, we're talking up to 200 minutes a day not spent interacting with your baby (and not spent sleeping!). This level of devotion is nearly impossible, but nevertheless I tried.
And then my Mom was hospitalized. Up to that point, I had been able to provide at least half of G's meals by breast milk thanks to pumping and my supply was steadily increasing. After 2 weeks of getting one, maybe two pumps in at best as I was taking care of my parent's errands, visiting her in the hospital, and living out of someone else's house, my supply just one day essentially stopped. It was bizarre. If I were to pump today, I might get 5% of his meal at best. So, I've given up pumping and will hand the rental in this week.
It makes me sad as my body reminds me of what it should do. Often when he cries and especially when he roots, I still get a small let down. The simple fact is, like most parents, I want only the best for G and I somehow feel as if formula feeding has failed him. I think infertility (as always) plays a large role in this. First, I wonder, is it yet another failure of my body? I also wanted that closeness and of course all of the nutritional and immune benefits so often described. On top of all of this, G has had some reflux and gas issues and although he seemed to have these even when he was taking in breast milk, part of me wonders whether formula is the culprit given that it is more difficult to digest.
So this is the end of the line. I'm officially a breastfeeding dropout (sung to the tune of Beauty School Dropout from Grease).
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Love Letter to my Belated Baby
Dear G,
I've been told that you'll never fully understand love until you have a child. Perhaps this is true for most, but I must have had a good idea before you arrived for the years spent seeking you were fueled by a motivation I can only describe as pure love, the type that leaves you without a second thought as you are plunging that syringe into your belly for someone whose face you've not yet even seen. I never once looked back as I knew that somewhere in that turmoil I would find you. As you now lay perfectly molded into my lap, I can easily say that I would turn back and take a million more syringes, spend a million more nights in heartache for you and somehow, I always knew it would be worth it. Your arrival has confirmed what I knew in my heart all along to be true.
What I didn't know and could have never planned for was how amazing you are. Today you're a month old and in that time, I've already learned so much about you. As you were entering this world, the nurse touched your head and noticed that your heart rate stabilized when she did this. You've loved to be touched since your birth, and when caressing your forehead, cheeks and head, your beautiful blue eyes begin to flutter to a close. You love music and especially to be sung to. As we dance around the living room together, your eyes lock on mine, unwavering as I sing along and for such a new creature, you already have so much depth behind those eyes and your gaze is already so intense and trusting.
You love nothing more than to be in just your diaper (or better yet, nothing, but we rarely brave that!) and despite your previous mood, as soon as your clothes are off, you are so instantly full of joy, earning you the nickname 'Dipey' (baby talk for diaper). Perhaps we have a budding nudist on our hands? At your happiest, you reward us with gentle coos and hints of social smiles. You make the sweetest squeaks in your sleep and have somehow in your short life managed to imitate every animal found at the zoo, including a baby elephant! I am so excited everyday to learn more, especially as you grow so quickly.
Almost as miraculous as you are is how you've managed to change your Dad and I overnight. We never could have imagined that we would be so comfortable incorporating baby talk into our regular vocabulary and find ourselves using it in public far too often. We somehow enjoy owning a minivan now and think an exciting night out on the town is a trip around the mall with your stroller. We have redefined our life in mere weeks and have done so happily. For you, I am certain, we would do anything and without a moment's pause.
This last month has seen me incredulous that such a perfect little man is now a part of my life. What did I do to deserve such a gift in life? Yes, we endured a lot to see you here, but the effort pales in comparison to the reward. So, my baby love, I want to thank you. Thank you for giving me this incredible experience of parenting you. It is already the most miraculous experience of my life, one that I would have easily waited the rest of my days for.
I've been told that you'll never fully understand love until you have a child. Perhaps this is true for most, but I must have had a good idea before you arrived for the years spent seeking you were fueled by a motivation I can only describe as pure love, the type that leaves you without a second thought as you are plunging that syringe into your belly for someone whose face you've not yet even seen. I never once looked back as I knew that somewhere in that turmoil I would find you. As you now lay perfectly molded into my lap, I can easily say that I would turn back and take a million more syringes, spend a million more nights in heartache for you and somehow, I always knew it would be worth it. Your arrival has confirmed what I knew in my heart all along to be true.
What I didn't know and could have never planned for was how amazing you are. Today you're a month old and in that time, I've already learned so much about you. As you were entering this world, the nurse touched your head and noticed that your heart rate stabilized when she did this. You've loved to be touched since your birth, and when caressing your forehead, cheeks and head, your beautiful blue eyes begin to flutter to a close. You love music and especially to be sung to. As we dance around the living room together, your eyes lock on mine, unwavering as I sing along and for such a new creature, you already have so much depth behind those eyes and your gaze is already so intense and trusting.
You love nothing more than to be in just your diaper (or better yet, nothing, but we rarely brave that!) and despite your previous mood, as soon as your clothes are off, you are so instantly full of joy, earning you the nickname 'Dipey' (baby talk for diaper). Perhaps we have a budding nudist on our hands? At your happiest, you reward us with gentle coos and hints of social smiles. You make the sweetest squeaks in your sleep and have somehow in your short life managed to imitate every animal found at the zoo, including a baby elephant! I am so excited everyday to learn more, especially as you grow so quickly.
Almost as miraculous as you are is how you've managed to change your Dad and I overnight. We never could have imagined that we would be so comfortable incorporating baby talk into our regular vocabulary and find ourselves using it in public far too often. We somehow enjoy owning a minivan now and think an exciting night out on the town is a trip around the mall with your stroller. We have redefined our life in mere weeks and have done so happily. For you, I am certain, we would do anything and without a moment's pause.
This last month has seen me incredulous that such a perfect little man is now a part of my life. What did I do to deserve such a gift in life? Yes, we endured a lot to see you here, but the effort pales in comparison to the reward. So, my baby love, I want to thank you. Thank you for giving me this incredible experience of parenting you. It is already the most miraculous experience of my life, one that I would have easily waited the rest of my days for.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Not What I Had Pictured...
There's a danger in idealizing the future. All of us who have fought IF know this well. Long ago we might have pictured what it would look like one day to surprise our significant other with a positive pee stick, yet for those of us lucky enough to get a BFP, there was a lot less surprise in something that took thousands of dollars and lab labor to concoct, especially when it was accompanied by a perfectly timed blood test instead. I've found the same to be true in childbirth and parenting. One may formulate a lovely version of what is to become, but the best laid plans are usually forsaken for a different path.
Take for instance arriving home from the hospital. I envisioned Baby G's first trip home like a Kodak moment. In fact, I already knew what the pictures would look like: me smiling wearily with G in my arms as I am wheeled out, Mr. S and I walking through the front door side-by-side with G in my arms. Perhaps there would be balloons or a sign awaiting us. But this wasn't meant to be. There were no pictures, no balloons. After Mr. S became very ill, he was forced to come home in another car, only to be separated from us for three days. Our trip home was a muted celebration. As Baby G, the child Mr. S had waited 5 years for, became acquainted with his new home, all Mr. S had to document this was by cell phone photos I sent him over the days. It was hard, but we understood it to be a temporary set back. I knew we had the remainder of his paternity and my maternity leave to make more Kodak moments and I was already forming those visions in my head. Once again, I was wrong to do so.
Several days later I got a call from my Mom. She had gotten sick at the hospital during G's birth, but her respiratory problems have been longstanding. While my Mother NEVER asks for anything, in this instance she was asking me to bring her to the hospital the next day. This is when I knew something was very wrong. Mr. S and I immediately packed little G up and drove the hour and 15 minutes to her house where I found her in no shape to be waiting overnight for medical intervention. Despite her resistance, I insisted on going to the hospital that night and as her breathing progressively worsened, it was clear that an ambulance was needed immediately. This resulted in almost a week of her being hospitalized and Mr. S, G and I camping out at my in-laws' house where our family alone time instead turned into everyone and their grandmother (literally) passing Baby G around. Once again, not ideal. The quiet alone I had idealized and planned for to get to know my child was not in the cards.
Ok, so after her discharge I figured that the previous few weeks were not exactly what I was hoping for, but we would make up for this. Kodak moments were still possible, right? Except that the day after her discharge, shortly after being up all night and an ER visit with G that resulted in a diagnosis of colic, I discovered that her condition had instead worsened, I'm sure due in large part to the fact that upon her discharge she went home and chain smoked like a chimney. A battle over her going to the hospital once again ensued, I once again called an ambulance, and once again, we camped out at Mr. S's parents' for the greater part of a week while it was discovered that in addition to emphysema and asthma, she was diagnosed with heart arrythmia and tachycardia. She was just discharged today and Mr. S is set to return to work tomorrow.
So that was the entirety of his paternity leave and 1/3 of my maternity leave.
I guess I shouldn't complain. I mean, I got my dream come true and even when parenting a newborn usurps every last shred of patience and sleep I possess, G himself never fails to be the greatest joy I have ever known, easily making up for any other hardships. But I can't help but feel deeply disappointed and resentful. This was our time, the time we had worked 5 years for and it feels like it was robbed. I know we have many years ahead of us, but I really wanted this. I guess I naively figured that after everything to get here the universe owed me the simple request of letting us be at least briefly.
I also never realized how much I idealized breastfeeding. This too did not happen in the way I had pictured. After G was diagnosed with jaundice and required formula feeding every 2 hours in the hospital to help get rid of it, he's not returned to latching on. Despite meeting with 2 lactation consultants in the hospital and one for an hour long appointment at our local womens' health center, he never did latch on again. He's quite fond of the bottle and through all of the upheaval of my Mom's hospitalization, I couldn't pump regularly and now my supply is pretty much gone. I never, ever fathomed how deeply upset this would make me or how much I wanted to breastfeed and while I know that he is healthy and getting what he needs, I am so incredibly disappointed that it brings tears to my eyes on a regular basis.
Although this post is negative and makes it look like I've had no happiness in the past several weeks, this couldn't be farther from the truth. After coming back from visiting my Mother in the hospital, watching her functioning deteriorate before my eyes (to the point where I question her ability to live independently with my Father who is equally disabled), all I had to do was return to Baby G, hold him against me, watch his big blue eyes track mine and everything was right in the world for that moment. I could easily find a smile for him, even when it seemed impossible just moments earlier. I miss him, even when he's in the next room and despite my exhaustion, I sometimes wake him up just to interact with him (which is a death wish with a newborn!). Although the past few weeks were not what I had imagined, Baby G is more than I could have imagined and that makes everything ok.
Take for instance arriving home from the hospital. I envisioned Baby G's first trip home like a Kodak moment. In fact, I already knew what the pictures would look like: me smiling wearily with G in my arms as I am wheeled out, Mr. S and I walking through the front door side-by-side with G in my arms. Perhaps there would be balloons or a sign awaiting us. But this wasn't meant to be. There were no pictures, no balloons. After Mr. S became very ill, he was forced to come home in another car, only to be separated from us for three days. Our trip home was a muted celebration. As Baby G, the child Mr. S had waited 5 years for, became acquainted with his new home, all Mr. S had to document this was by cell phone photos I sent him over the days. It was hard, but we understood it to be a temporary set back. I knew we had the remainder of his paternity and my maternity leave to make more Kodak moments and I was already forming those visions in my head. Once again, I was wrong to do so.
Several days later I got a call from my Mom. She had gotten sick at the hospital during G's birth, but her respiratory problems have been longstanding. While my Mother NEVER asks for anything, in this instance she was asking me to bring her to the hospital the next day. This is when I knew something was very wrong. Mr. S and I immediately packed little G up and drove the hour and 15 minutes to her house where I found her in no shape to be waiting overnight for medical intervention. Despite her resistance, I insisted on going to the hospital that night and as her breathing progressively worsened, it was clear that an ambulance was needed immediately. This resulted in almost a week of her being hospitalized and Mr. S, G and I camping out at my in-laws' house where our family alone time instead turned into everyone and their grandmother (literally) passing Baby G around. Once again, not ideal. The quiet alone I had idealized and planned for to get to know my child was not in the cards.
Ok, so after her discharge I figured that the previous few weeks were not exactly what I was hoping for, but we would make up for this. Kodak moments were still possible, right? Except that the day after her discharge, shortly after being up all night and an ER visit with G that resulted in a diagnosis of colic, I discovered that her condition had instead worsened, I'm sure due in large part to the fact that upon her discharge she went home and chain smoked like a chimney. A battle over her going to the hospital once again ensued, I once again called an ambulance, and once again, we camped out at Mr. S's parents' for the greater part of a week while it was discovered that in addition to emphysema and asthma, she was diagnosed with heart arrythmia and tachycardia. She was just discharged today and Mr. S is set to return to work tomorrow.
So that was the entirety of his paternity leave and 1/3 of my maternity leave.
I guess I shouldn't complain. I mean, I got my dream come true and even when parenting a newborn usurps every last shred of patience and sleep I possess, G himself never fails to be the greatest joy I have ever known, easily making up for any other hardships. But I can't help but feel deeply disappointed and resentful. This was our time, the time we had worked 5 years for and it feels like it was robbed. I know we have many years ahead of us, but I really wanted this. I guess I naively figured that after everything to get here the universe owed me the simple request of letting us be at least briefly.
I also never realized how much I idealized breastfeeding. This too did not happen in the way I had pictured. After G was diagnosed with jaundice and required formula feeding every 2 hours in the hospital to help get rid of it, he's not returned to latching on. Despite meeting with 2 lactation consultants in the hospital and one for an hour long appointment at our local womens' health center, he never did latch on again. He's quite fond of the bottle and through all of the upheaval of my Mom's hospitalization, I couldn't pump regularly and now my supply is pretty much gone. I never, ever fathomed how deeply upset this would make me or how much I wanted to breastfeed and while I know that he is healthy and getting what he needs, I am so incredibly disappointed that it brings tears to my eyes on a regular basis.
Although this post is negative and makes it look like I've had no happiness in the past several weeks, this couldn't be farther from the truth. After coming back from visiting my Mother in the hospital, watching her functioning deteriorate before my eyes (to the point where I question her ability to live independently with my Father who is equally disabled), all I had to do was return to Baby G, hold him against me, watch his big blue eyes track mine and everything was right in the world for that moment. I could easily find a smile for him, even when it seemed impossible just moments earlier. I miss him, even when he's in the next room and despite my exhaustion, I sometimes wake him up just to interact with him (which is a death wish with a newborn!). Although the past few weeks were not what I had imagined, Baby G is more than I could have imagined and that makes everything ok.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Birth Story
I started this post a few weeks ago, but so much has happened beyond taking care of a new baby since then that it has been nearly impossible for me to return and finish it. Rather, I should say, so much is happening, as the drama continues. In the last few weeks, I have called the ambulance twice for my Mother (who is still in the hospital with chronic and severe heart and lung issues), Mr. S was, as you might have read, very ill leaving me alone for several days, and Baby G was so colicky one day that we were instructed to visit the ER at 5 AM (the same day as one of my Mom's 911 calls). Luckily all is well with the little guy. I will detail all of this later, but in the mean time, I'm instead compelled to write about the best experience of my life thus far. So, here it is:
Final birth stats:
Vaginal birth
27 hours active labor
3.5 hours pushing
One fabulous, 7 lb. 10 oz healthy 20 1/4 inch long baby
The Induction
We were set to induce Monday evening on the 16th of November. The plan was to have a foley catheter placed in my cervix and inflated in order to dilate it mechanically to approximately 3-4 centimeters before the need for drugs to help it along (not that I'm not a fan of drugs--clearly that's what got me here!). The family was all set to join us that afternoon, but when I woke up with contractions and some bleeding early Monday morning, we thought for sure the show was about to unfold on its own, and quickly. Everyone rushed up (they live over an hour away) leaving me to feel silly by afternoon. Except for some residual cramping and spotting, there were no other signs that any progress was being made so off I went to my final OB appointment that afternoon to get set up with my very own foley catheter.
As always, I researched the catheter and found that most people said, yes, it's placement is uncomfortable, but not excruciating. What I didn't manage to find was tales of having an immediate and believe me, very STRONG contraction right after getting it in, which is what I experienced. It took my breath away. As my abdomen hardened like a basketball, I grew instantly nauseous and left the office with severe cramps. While the nurse practitioner indicated that going into labor after the catheter placement is somewhat uncommon, my body managed to do just that and within a few hours, my consistent contractions were leaving me breathless at 5-6 minutes apart. While I was scheduled to check into the hospital at 9, I decided to go earlier and was already doped up with an epidural by the original appointment time. My goal has never been to be brave!
The Hospital Arrival
Speaking of which, epidurals are my friend. Seriously. Perhaps even my best friend. So, with a room full of Mr. S, in-laws and my Mom, we set out for a long evening. Despite the fact that the nurse was certain that birth would not take place before 8 AM, everyone insisted on staying overnight at the hospital, despite the fact that our house is only 20 minutes away and there were not enough chairs for everyone in the room (and a regulation preventing bringing more in). To be honest, that kind of annoyed me. No, it REALLY annoyed me. First of all, my Mom is not healthy (has severe emphysema, asthma, etc.) and depends on others to drive her around because of a combination of various neuroses (fear of bridges and highways) as well as genuine night blindness. Yet she insisted on staying and is now VERY sick from it and in the hospital, but this is another story. There were times when Mr. S (who by that point had not slept since early Monday morning) was left standing while the rest of the family napped in the chairs. He's too easy going to say anything, and let me tell you, if I weren't so doped up and pain free, I would have had a few stronger words to say about it beyond simple hints like, "Mr. S, you should get some sleep. YOUR son is about to be born and you might want to be awake for it."
The Scare
All in all, the 27 hours spent in labor were interspersed with epidural-fueled naps, internal checks and a few scary instances of Baby G's heart rate dropping as a result of the Pitocin. I can tell you, there is nothing more terrifying than waking up from a deep sleep to a few nurses rushing in and a baby heart rate monitor that says 60. Luckily, immediately after backing off the Pitocin and flipping me on my side every 15 minutes, his heart rate climbed back up. As labor progressed, his heart rate seemed to also decelerate following each contraction, but would climb right back up, which worried the nurses. While my OB didn't seem nearly as concerned, I spent so much of the time with my eyes glued to the heart rate monitor that I was getting cramps in my neck. They eventually gave me oxygen to help baby G and while everything seemed to stabilize, I still slept with one eye open.
I was also told that baby G was posterior (head down, but facing the wrong way) and that plus my previously diagnosed narrow pelvis, we still had no idea whether we were in for a C section or a vaginal birth until the very end. And if a vaginal birth was to happen, it would likely require a vaccum to get him out of my cramped quarters.
Time to Push
Someone commented to Mr. S. after Baby G was born, "Oh, you're the one whose wife was 10 centimeters for a day." Yup. That was me. My OB didn't mosey in until late Tuesday, but before that time, the nurse was measuring me at 9.75 for hours due to a 'lip' that was still in the way on my cervix. My OB decided later in the day that the 'lip' could be pushed out of the way. He's also a fan of a 'passive' active labor, allowing contractions to push the baby down to decrease push time (haha, I pushed for over 3 hours-how much longer could that be??). When the pushing began, it was without any fanfare. Just one nurse was in the room and my OB had yet to join us. When he did, he sat for about 30 minutes manually rotating Baby G's head to get him to face the right direction and managed to do so quite successfully. Mr. S's Mom held one of my legs, Mr. S held the other and while my Mother tried to hold my neck, she was too weak and shaky (and was wheezing in my ear, which didn't make for a quiet calm), so Mr. S. took over leg and neck duty. I was in a good mood and much of the time was spent talking
I will say this, pushing, especially nearing the end, was some of the hardest work I've endured (making me question whether I might end up blowing some blood vessels in my eyes), but I did so with a smile on my face and lighthearted discussion, despite the fact that I had dialed down my epidural and was feeling every contraction. Oh, that and I tore and also was gifted an episiotomy, but frankly, that didn't phase me. Let's face it, after all this time and effort just to get here, what's 3 1/2 more hours of pain and hard work? I had the ultimate motivation and before I had even realized all of that time had passed, Baby G made his way into the world (without the help of the vacuum!).
At first, it was surreal. His cry sounded like a baby bird's and as a team quickly descended into the room, they lifted his gorgeous little body up and declared him a healthy little man. This time went by in a flash-there were tears, hugs, and at some point, my OB had delivered the placenta and stitched me up, though I hardly noticed. When they placed little G on my chest, I was amazed. I mean, I knew there was SUPPOSED to be a baby in that belly of mine, but to actually see a baby, a real, live, healthy baby that came from ME and who was MINE, was the most miraculous moment of my life. In fact, as I type this, I feel like my words are so ridiculously understated.
So, in short (yes, that was actually the short version!), I had a pretty amazing and actually a somewhat 'normal' experience. Normality for an infertile chick with a crazy family is in short supply, so when it does come, it is not taken for granted. But truthfully, I would have been glad to endure more abnormality to finally see Baby G home.
Final birth stats:
Vaginal birth
27 hours active labor
3.5 hours pushing
One fabulous, 7 lb. 10 oz healthy 20 1/4 inch long baby
The Induction
We were set to induce Monday evening on the 16th of November. The plan was to have a foley catheter placed in my cervix and inflated in order to dilate it mechanically to approximately 3-4 centimeters before the need for drugs to help it along (not that I'm not a fan of drugs--clearly that's what got me here!). The family was all set to join us that afternoon, but when I woke up with contractions and some bleeding early Monday morning, we thought for sure the show was about to unfold on its own, and quickly. Everyone rushed up (they live over an hour away) leaving me to feel silly by afternoon. Except for some residual cramping and spotting, there were no other signs that any progress was being made so off I went to my final OB appointment that afternoon to get set up with my very own foley catheter.
As always, I researched the catheter and found that most people said, yes, it's placement is uncomfortable, but not excruciating. What I didn't manage to find was tales of having an immediate and believe me, very STRONG contraction right after getting it in, which is what I experienced. It took my breath away. As my abdomen hardened like a basketball, I grew instantly nauseous and left the office with severe cramps. While the nurse practitioner indicated that going into labor after the catheter placement is somewhat uncommon, my body managed to do just that and within a few hours, my consistent contractions were leaving me breathless at 5-6 minutes apart. While I was scheduled to check into the hospital at 9, I decided to go earlier and was already doped up with an epidural by the original appointment time. My goal has never been to be brave!
The Hospital Arrival
Speaking of which, epidurals are my friend. Seriously. Perhaps even my best friend. So, with a room full of Mr. S, in-laws and my Mom, we set out for a long evening. Despite the fact that the nurse was certain that birth would not take place before 8 AM, everyone insisted on staying overnight at the hospital, despite the fact that our house is only 20 minutes away and there were not enough chairs for everyone in the room (and a regulation preventing bringing more in). To be honest, that kind of annoyed me. No, it REALLY annoyed me. First of all, my Mom is not healthy (has severe emphysema, asthma, etc.) and depends on others to drive her around because of a combination of various neuroses (fear of bridges and highways) as well as genuine night blindness. Yet she insisted on staying and is now VERY sick from it and in the hospital, but this is another story. There were times when Mr. S (who by that point had not slept since early Monday morning) was left standing while the rest of the family napped in the chairs. He's too easy going to say anything, and let me tell you, if I weren't so doped up and pain free, I would have had a few stronger words to say about it beyond simple hints like, "Mr. S, you should get some sleep. YOUR son is about to be born and you might want to be awake for it."
The Scare
All in all, the 27 hours spent in labor were interspersed with epidural-fueled naps, internal checks and a few scary instances of Baby G's heart rate dropping as a result of the Pitocin. I can tell you, there is nothing more terrifying than waking up from a deep sleep to a few nurses rushing in and a baby heart rate monitor that says 60. Luckily, immediately after backing off the Pitocin and flipping me on my side every 15 minutes, his heart rate climbed back up. As labor progressed, his heart rate seemed to also decelerate following each contraction, but would climb right back up, which worried the nurses. While my OB didn't seem nearly as concerned, I spent so much of the time with my eyes glued to the heart rate monitor that I was getting cramps in my neck. They eventually gave me oxygen to help baby G and while everything seemed to stabilize, I still slept with one eye open.
I was also told that baby G was posterior (head down, but facing the wrong way) and that plus my previously diagnosed narrow pelvis, we still had no idea whether we were in for a C section or a vaginal birth until the very end. And if a vaginal birth was to happen, it would likely require a vaccum to get him out of my cramped quarters.
Time to Push
Someone commented to Mr. S. after Baby G was born, "Oh, you're the one whose wife was 10 centimeters for a day." Yup. That was me. My OB didn't mosey in until late Tuesday, but before that time, the nurse was measuring me at 9.75 for hours due to a 'lip' that was still in the way on my cervix. My OB decided later in the day that the 'lip' could be pushed out of the way. He's also a fan of a 'passive' active labor, allowing contractions to push the baby down to decrease push time (haha, I pushed for over 3 hours-how much longer could that be??). When the pushing began, it was without any fanfare. Just one nurse was in the room and my OB had yet to join us. When he did, he sat for about 30 minutes manually rotating Baby G's head to get him to face the right direction and managed to do so quite successfully. Mr. S's Mom held one of my legs, Mr. S held the other and while my Mother tried to hold my neck, she was too weak and shaky (and was wheezing in my ear, which didn't make for a quiet calm), so Mr. S. took over leg and neck duty. I was in a good mood and much of the time was spent talking
I will say this, pushing, especially nearing the end, was some of the hardest work I've endured (making me question whether I might end up blowing some blood vessels in my eyes), but I did so with a smile on my face and lighthearted discussion, despite the fact that I had dialed down my epidural and was feeling every contraction. Oh, that and I tore and also was gifted an episiotomy, but frankly, that didn't phase me. Let's face it, after all this time and effort just to get here, what's 3 1/2 more hours of pain and hard work? I had the ultimate motivation and before I had even realized all of that time had passed, Baby G made his way into the world (without the help of the vacuum!).
At first, it was surreal. His cry sounded like a baby bird's and as a team quickly descended into the room, they lifted his gorgeous little body up and declared him a healthy little man. This time went by in a flash-there were tears, hugs, and at some point, my OB had delivered the placenta and stitched me up, though I hardly noticed. When they placed little G on my chest, I was amazed. I mean, I knew there was SUPPOSED to be a baby in that belly of mine, but to actually see a baby, a real, live, healthy baby that came from ME and who was MINE, was the most miraculous moment of my life. In fact, as I type this, I feel like my words are so ridiculously understated.
So, in short (yes, that was actually the short version!), I had a pretty amazing and actually a somewhat 'normal' experience. Normality for an infertile chick with a crazy family is in short supply, so when it does come, it is not taken for granted. But truthfully, I would have been glad to endure more abnormality to finally see Baby G home.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Introducing....
Baby G!
Born November 17th at 7:02 PM
7 lbs. 10 oz.
20.25 inches
After 27 hours of labor and 3 hours of pushing, Baby G came into this world happy and healthy with a beautiful, sweet cry. I will update more and would have updated sooner, but Mr. S is horribly sick and quarantined away from us in our house, and given that our family is over an hour away, I am essentially single parenting and it's HARD. Living on 15 minutes of sleep at a time here, but at least I'm learning tp type with one hand! Hey, while our fairytale coming home was not given to us, our fairytale child was. My dreams have finally arrived. I am already completely and totally in love....
Baby G on day 3, staring up at me with his big, beautiful eyes:
Born November 17th at 7:02 PM
7 lbs. 10 oz.
20.25 inches
After 27 hours of labor and 3 hours of pushing, Baby G came into this world happy and healthy with a beautiful, sweet cry. I will update more and would have updated sooner, but Mr. S is horribly sick and quarantined away from us in our house, and given that our family is over an hour away, I am essentially single parenting and it's HARD. Living on 15 minutes of sleep at a time here, but at least I'm learning tp type with one hand! Hey, while our fairytale coming home was not given to us, our fairytale child was. My dreams have finally arrived. I am already completely and totally in love....
Baby G on day 3, staring up at me with his big, beautiful eyes:
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Eviction Notice from the Baby Condo
Dear tenant,
We are pleased that you have enjoyed your 9 month stay with us and have found the accommodations to your liking. This was our hope when you first took residence, however, I must inform you that your lease will expire Saturday, November 14th. A lease renewal is not available at this time. Because we understand this transition to be difficult, we have agreed to provide a brief grace period at which time you must immediately vacate the premises no later than Tuesday, November 16th. Although not as comfortable as your current residence, we will attempt to provide you with quite reasonable accommodations with a mandatory 18 year lease. A lease renewal at that time will be up for discussion. We wish you a safe moving day and look forward to seeing you into your next residence.
Sincerely,
Your very tired and large Landlady
We are pleased that you have enjoyed your 9 month stay with us and have found the accommodations to your liking. This was our hope when you first took residence, however, I must inform you that your lease will expire Saturday, November 14th. A lease renewal is not available at this time. Because we understand this transition to be difficult, we have agreed to provide a brief grace period at which time you must immediately vacate the premises no later than Tuesday, November 16th. Although not as comfortable as your current residence, we will attempt to provide you with quite reasonable accommodations with a mandatory 18 year lease. A lease renewal at that time will be up for discussion. We wish you a safe moving day and look forward to seeing you into your next residence.
Sincerely,
Your very tired and large Landlady
Monday, November 9, 2009
We May Have a Date and Once an Infertile, Always an Infertile....
So, according to the NP, the analogy of my cervix being like a steel trap is not far off. I had my 39 week check-up today and still no progress. The door is sealed shut, Fort Knox style. Early on in my pregnancy, I learned that I have a pretty narrow pelvis and that that could cause some complications (and increase chances of a c-section). Well, it appears this may be contributing to the steel trap. Baby G's head is resting squarely atop that little pelvis of mine, so while he is ready to engage, my body is not.
Huh. Sounds familiar. My body is not doing what it's supposed to? Story of my life, no?
A fellow IVFer friend of mine who recently delivered her little one became frustrated at the end of her pregnancy as she became overdue. Naturally she had lost so much faith in her body during the course of treatment, but pregnancy helped her reclaim some of this as it was finally beginning to do things 'right'. I mean, there is something so immensely powerful in being able to grow and nourish another human when for years your body and medical science seemed to be proving time and time again that this was not possible. To actually have things go the way they should is a miracle in and of itself. So for my friend, the fact that her body was not engaging in labor was threatening to rob that new-found faith. I feel that way in many respects. I swear that no matter how far you think you walk away from the evils of dirty IF thinking, you're never quite far enough.
In fact, I called this long before today. Call it 'waiting for the bottom to drop out', because after 5 years of infertility, I have been conditioned to think this way. All along I had a strong suspicion that either my body would deliver too early, way too late, or not at all without medical intervention. So the latter is the likely candidate now and we're scheduled to begin an induction Monday the 16th (with birth planned late Tuesday), if he doesn't arrive before then. But hey, if I somehow avoided more medical intervention as far as childbearing is concerned, it would be out of character. I have to say though, I am incredibly relieved to have a final date. As of now, I feel like I might be pregnant for the next 5 years. It's nice to know that won't happen.
In other news, Mr. S's brother and his wife had announced that they would start trying immediately after marrying. Well, they married a little over a month ago and guess who's already 4 1/2 weeks along? Yeah. While I'm excited to have a cousin so close in age to Baby G, I must ask: Why must I be surrounded by the mind-blowingly fertile? I mean, really?
Huh. Sounds familiar. My body is not doing what it's supposed to? Story of my life, no?
A fellow IVFer friend of mine who recently delivered her little one became frustrated at the end of her pregnancy as she became overdue. Naturally she had lost so much faith in her body during the course of treatment, but pregnancy helped her reclaim some of this as it was finally beginning to do things 'right'. I mean, there is something so immensely powerful in being able to grow and nourish another human when for years your body and medical science seemed to be proving time and time again that this was not possible. To actually have things go the way they should is a miracle in and of itself. So for my friend, the fact that her body was not engaging in labor was threatening to rob that new-found faith. I feel that way in many respects. I swear that no matter how far you think you walk away from the evils of dirty IF thinking, you're never quite far enough.
In fact, I called this long before today. Call it 'waiting for the bottom to drop out', because after 5 years of infertility, I have been conditioned to think this way. All along I had a strong suspicion that either my body would deliver too early, way too late, or not at all without medical intervention. So the latter is the likely candidate now and we're scheduled to begin an induction Monday the 16th (with birth planned late Tuesday), if he doesn't arrive before then. But hey, if I somehow avoided more medical intervention as far as childbearing is concerned, it would be out of character. I have to say though, I am incredibly relieved to have a final date. As of now, I feel like I might be pregnant for the next 5 years. It's nice to know that won't happen.
In other news, Mr. S's brother and his wife had announced that they would start trying immediately after marrying. Well, they married a little over a month ago and guess who's already 4 1/2 weeks along? Yeah. While I'm excited to have a cousin so close in age to Baby G, I must ask: Why must I be surrounded by the mind-blowingly fertile? I mean, really?
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