20120426
Month Two
My little girl is two months old. I might have just cried about that. How is she getting bigger so quickly?
She's got an official nickname from N and I. We sing it to her as we take care of her throughout the day. N has not yet let go of his jealousy, but as she smiles more at him, he likes her more. She is certainly willing to smile at N. I will admit, the fact that she won't stop staring at me makes my heart go pitter-pat. As I walk around the room, it doesn't matter who holds her or plays with her, she tries to look at me and I love her.
I take many iPhone pics and videos of the baby girl and I try to get out the video camera and SLR too. No need to put her into therapy one day because N has fifteen billion times the photos/videos of him.
She is getting chubby too! She gained two and a half pounds this last month. Pretty good for a little baby I initially believed I was starving. We got through her six week growth spurt and it was a bit painful, but once past that, it's gotten a bit easier. She does love to eat, though.
She coos like a crazy person, often holding conversations with me. We play silly games like "ka-pow" and peekaboo and "kiss attack". Kiss attack is a personal fav (it involves me pointing to my lips, yelling kiss attack, and making kissing noises as I near her), but she likes peekaboo a bit more. Ka-pow doesn't get many smiles from her, but it makes me nearly snort, so we keep playing it. "What are you going to do to the boys who treat you badly? You get up all in their business and go 'ka-pow' 'ka-pow' with your fists." We accompany that with me helping her to punch these imaginary boys.
I'll admit, I find peekaboo kind of boring, but it's gotten the sound closest to a laugh, so we play it a LOT. N likes to imitate these games I play or he then likes to play them with me. Watching him ka-pow with her is hysterical. Watching him play peekaboo with me is also hysterical.
She's also starting to grab my clothes while she nurses, clutching onto me for dear life. I kiss her fingers while she does this. I've become one of those crazy women who loves nursing. I feel like I should join LLL or something.
That's my two month update on N2, otherwise known as the strawberry cake baby or the cupcake princess. (N has a series of his own nicknames that he refuses to share with her that has forced me to be a little more creative with N2's names.)
20120404
Sometimes, I Do Crafty Stuff
Sometime during my pregnancy, I decided to do some crafty things, and I did them! I really did. But, as you all know, I either didn't have a good camera lens, or I was totally lazy about processing and posting photos. So, this photo of a pillowcase I made for N is from October. October. I'm embarrassed.
In fact, I'm even more embarrassed by the fact that I had this fabric for so long.
In fact, I'm even more embarrassed by the fact that I had this fabric for so long.
But, at least N likes it. He sleeps with it every night that it isn't in the wash. It's a pretty simple pillowcase made from the pattern in Heather Ross's Weekend Sewing
. The fabric is one I bought from a fellow blogger.
I paired it with a neutral for the edging and the success of this project inspired me to buy fabric for a specifically autumnal pillow for N. Which I did not make. WEEP!
I'm the worst.
I paired it with a neutral for the edging and the success of this project inspired me to buy fabric for a specifically autumnal pillow for N. Which I did not make. WEEP!
I'm the worst.
20120401
Random Thoughts I've Thought Today
I realized today that I wanted to catalog some of the things I've been thinking.
- I'm so over mending. Maybe I should just pre-patch the knees on N's pants?
- I didn't really care for the latest Superman movie, but that one scene in which he goes into space and he can everyone and their problems but he can't save them all was super awesome and stuck in my mind. Why can't they explore that weakness in a storyline? They glossed right over it.
- Can two ounces of formula really mess up N2's digestive system this badly?
- I wonder if I'll like these boots from Gap kids if I get them. They only cost fifteen dollars. It's probably worth it. I hope a size three fits me.
- Why don't I like the header text on this page that Helen sent me? I can't pinpoint it and now I'm frustrated.
- I get angry when I can't keep up with P when we watch Jeopardy together. I hope that in a few years, N can enjoy Jeopardy with us rather than screaming over it with questions.
- It makes me laugh pretty hard when N sings to himself, "Radio killed the video star" or he asks for the firefly song. I'm glad he has good musical taste, but his interpretations of the music he hears makes me even happier.
- I miss playing D&D.
- By the time I have time to play Skyrim, a newer and better game will come along.
20120328
Newborn N2 Is Becoming Just Baby N2
I love my new baby. I should just put that out there. And I want her to grow and be healthy and big and happy.
However, she's already finding the newborn clothing a bit tight and I keep thinking to myself, "I'm going to weep like a crazed loon as she grows out of stuff". Because my husband and I only ever planned for two babies so this is the last time I'll hold a baby this small that is mine, mine, mine. And considering the health issues I have with having babies and the weeping and wailing I do right up until they arrive, that seems like a wise choice. But damn it... sometimes, when I am holding her tight to me and thinking about how tiny she seems right now and how big she'll get, I think to myself that three children isn't so many.
Feel free to leave links to your favorite crazed ninja kitten pregnancy post to remind me that two children are the perfect amount of children.
However, she's already finding the newborn clothing a bit tight and I keep thinking to myself, "I'm going to weep like a crazed loon as she grows out of stuff". Because my husband and I only ever planned for two babies so this is the last time I'll hold a baby this small that is mine, mine, mine. And considering the health issues I have with having babies and the weeping and wailing I do right up until they arrive, that seems like a wise choice. But damn it... sometimes, when I am holding her tight to me and thinking about how tiny she seems right now and how big she'll get, I think to myself that three children isn't so many.
Feel free to leave links to your favorite crazed ninja kitten pregnancy post to remind me that two children are the perfect amount of children.
20120316
Breastfeeding: Why I Made Myself Cry
Update: This was written a week ago. Since that time breastfeeding has gone from minorly uncomfortable to working without pain. Now the only times I get worked up about it are at six in the morning (ugh) or when I want to eat at night. Otherwise, I kind of love it. Also, I'm losing weight on a diet of doughnuts and chocolate cookies and whole milk. It's like I'm running miles every day!
***
Again -- this one is for the ladies! As many of you who read this blog regularly know, I was not able to breastfeed N. I attempted it, but by the time he got to me he was used to the bottle and my milk is not the type which comes in quickly. I cried bitter tears of defeat and self-hatred over that failure three and a half years ago and I only gave up when my pediatrician told me that I was not bonding with N because I was so focused on breastfeeding. She was correct and I was miserable every single time he would not latch which was pretty much every single time.
When I got pregnant a second time, I was determined to try and find a more supportive breastfeeding atmosphere at a hospital, but I tried not to get my heart set on succeeding. I knew my body seemed to have trouble producing milk. When N2 was born, they gave her to me immediately in the recovery area, and she had no problems latching. I was ecstatic. Every time they brought her to me, she latched and she appeared happy. Two days later, they gave me a warning. She had lost roughly nine percent of her body weight from birth. If she didn't improve soon, they would start to supplement her.
The next night, after I started to feel the beginnings of my milk come in, they told me the bad news -- she had lost more weight, and was down to 12% lost. I sucked it up and started to supplement with a syringe. She ate greedily, but continued to latch. Unfortunately, this was also the day that my breasts began to hurt. Hurt hurt. So much hurting this day. The lactation consultant told me she was latching incorrectly and gave me advice on the new way to latch her. She also consoled me and gave me advice on pumping. I cried because I could only pump five to ten ml for both breasts combined. When the pediatrician came in, she told me even worse news -- I could not supplement with a syringe any longer. She needed a bottle and plenty of them.
The next night was a battle. Being accustomed to the bottle now, she refused to take my breast. I would beg and plead with her, but three day old babies aren't really rational or willing to accept requests. I continued to pump, slowly getting larger amounts of milk, but it would take me three or four times with the pump to get her a full meal. After refusing to give her a bottle unless she would latch at least once, I managed to get her back to nursing the next day, and I supplemented a small amount. She managed to go back to only nine percent of her weight lost before we left the hospital.
We went home soon after, and at home, I went back to mostly nursing only, with one small bottle at night for supplement and I hated to do it because she would sleep so long with that formula that I had to beg her to wake up to nurse! However, the next day we went to the doctor and they told me the bad news again -- she was losing weight once again. I started to cry in the doctor's office and told them what I was doing. The doctor examining her asked some questions and seemed a little perplexed stating that she was clearly not dehydrated and had all the signs of a well fed baby other than the weight loss. Once again, though, we were on a heavy supplementing menu for N2.
I went home, supplemented like crazy, and again she started to refuse nursing. Again, I cried. I think I told P that if things continued to go badly, I was giving up at the end of month one. I refused to go through the pain and lack of sleep for a baby who wasn't thriving and refusing to eat. However, once again that night, through my refusal to offer a bottle until she at least attempted to nurse, I got her back to breastfeeding. And when I pumped, I noticed that I was able to put together nearly an ounce of milk now. This time, I said screw it -- we went back to the one bottle supplement in the middle of the night the next day and luckily, on our next doctor's appointment, the good news was she was gaining weight once more.
I challenged myself to lose the formula supplement at this point and she only got pumped milk for supplement for the next two days. After that, no supplements -- all nursing all the time. I wanted my milk to really damn well come in. And wouldn't you know? A week later, we went to the doctor and the word was she had gained over an ounce a day. I tried not to cry tears of relief and happiness as we got in the car. My body had not failed my daughter.
So, here we are weeks later. She is still breastfed only though I get tempted by the idea of a formula bottle for her at around five or six in the morning with P the one giving it to her, but from my reading online, that appears to be the way to nursing failure with your milk supply drying up. That thought terrifies me and keeps me waking up at six in the morning.
The pain from nursing is finally back to normal levels. For a while, when N2 latched on my right breast, I would kick my leg it hurt so much. I took a few pumping breaks on that breast and healed it up and now she can latch and I don't want to scream. The only thing that really still pains me is the engorgement after a four hour night break (oh, God, I want to wake her to make her eat sometimes) and the nursing frenzies that last for hours. She can be fussy in the evening and normally from six to around eleven, I spend a LOT of time nursing. That has been slowly getting better and last night she would take twenty minute breaks between eats to look around. That was nice.
I find that the more awake I am, and the more often she eats, the better nursing actually is. I hate nursing in the middle of the night because she doesn't like to lay next to me and nurse, so I have to sort of wake myself up and stare off into space as she spends her time nursing. And often, she only wants one breast which doesn't fill her up enough but I can't get her to wake up to take the second. I love nursing at around nine at night when I'm at my personal best, my breasts don't feel pained and she is settling down for the night.
All in all, I think recovery from having a child goes a lot faster with formula, but here's hoping I never have to take N2 to the hospital from an asthma attack due to the awesome immunities and health I'm passing her with my breastmilk. Also, I hear that any week now, she will be going from eight to twelve feedings a day to seven to nine feedings. And that I might get four and a half or five hours of a break soon at night. I keep reminding myself that this will not last forever, and that by the time fall rolls around, she'll be eating solids and sleeping a long time and N1 will be going to school more often, so the sleep deprived Ninja Kitten will once again be only minorly sleep deprived rather than openly weeping for lack of sleep most mornings.
***
Again -- this one is for the ladies! As many of you who read this blog regularly know, I was not able to breastfeed N. I attempted it, but by the time he got to me he was used to the bottle and my milk is not the type which comes in quickly. I cried bitter tears of defeat and self-hatred over that failure three and a half years ago and I only gave up when my pediatrician told me that I was not bonding with N because I was so focused on breastfeeding. She was correct and I was miserable every single time he would not latch which was pretty much every single time.
When I got pregnant a second time, I was determined to try and find a more supportive breastfeeding atmosphere at a hospital, but I tried not to get my heart set on succeeding. I knew my body seemed to have trouble producing milk. When N2 was born, they gave her to me immediately in the recovery area, and she had no problems latching. I was ecstatic. Every time they brought her to me, she latched and she appeared happy. Two days later, they gave me a warning. She had lost roughly nine percent of her body weight from birth. If she didn't improve soon, they would start to supplement her.
The next night, after I started to feel the beginnings of my milk come in, they told me the bad news -- she had lost more weight, and was down to 12% lost. I sucked it up and started to supplement with a syringe. She ate greedily, but continued to latch. Unfortunately, this was also the day that my breasts began to hurt. Hurt hurt. So much hurting this day. The lactation consultant told me she was latching incorrectly and gave me advice on the new way to latch her. She also consoled me and gave me advice on pumping. I cried because I could only pump five to ten ml for both breasts combined. When the pediatrician came in, she told me even worse news -- I could not supplement with a syringe any longer. She needed a bottle and plenty of them.
The next night was a battle. Being accustomed to the bottle now, she refused to take my breast. I would beg and plead with her, but three day old babies aren't really rational or willing to accept requests. I continued to pump, slowly getting larger amounts of milk, but it would take me three or four times with the pump to get her a full meal. After refusing to give her a bottle unless she would latch at least once, I managed to get her back to nursing the next day, and I supplemented a small amount. She managed to go back to only nine percent of her weight lost before we left the hospital.
We went home soon after, and at home, I went back to mostly nursing only, with one small bottle at night for supplement and I hated to do it because she would sleep so long with that formula that I had to beg her to wake up to nurse! However, the next day we went to the doctor and they told me the bad news again -- she was losing weight once again. I started to cry in the doctor's office and told them what I was doing. The doctor examining her asked some questions and seemed a little perplexed stating that she was clearly not dehydrated and had all the signs of a well fed baby other than the weight loss. Once again, though, we were on a heavy supplementing menu for N2.
I went home, supplemented like crazy, and again she started to refuse nursing. Again, I cried. I think I told P that if things continued to go badly, I was giving up at the end of month one. I refused to go through the pain and lack of sleep for a baby who wasn't thriving and refusing to eat. However, once again that night, through my refusal to offer a bottle until she at least attempted to nurse, I got her back to breastfeeding. And when I pumped, I noticed that I was able to put together nearly an ounce of milk now. This time, I said screw it -- we went back to the one bottle supplement in the middle of the night the next day and luckily, on our next doctor's appointment, the good news was she was gaining weight once more.
I challenged myself to lose the formula supplement at this point and she only got pumped milk for supplement for the next two days. After that, no supplements -- all nursing all the time. I wanted my milk to really damn well come in. And wouldn't you know? A week later, we went to the doctor and the word was she had gained over an ounce a day. I tried not to cry tears of relief and happiness as we got in the car. My body had not failed my daughter.
So, here we are weeks later. She is still breastfed only though I get tempted by the idea of a formula bottle for her at around five or six in the morning with P the one giving it to her, but from my reading online, that appears to be the way to nursing failure with your milk supply drying up. That thought terrifies me and keeps me waking up at six in the morning.
The pain from nursing is finally back to normal levels. For a while, when N2 latched on my right breast, I would kick my leg it hurt so much. I took a few pumping breaks on that breast and healed it up and now she can latch and I don't want to scream. The only thing that really still pains me is the engorgement after a four hour night break (oh, God, I want to wake her to make her eat sometimes) and the nursing frenzies that last for hours. She can be fussy in the evening and normally from six to around eleven, I spend a LOT of time nursing. That has been slowly getting better and last night she would take twenty minute breaks between eats to look around. That was nice.
I find that the more awake I am, and the more often she eats, the better nursing actually is. I hate nursing in the middle of the night because she doesn't like to lay next to me and nurse, so I have to sort of wake myself up and stare off into space as she spends her time nursing. And often, she only wants one breast which doesn't fill her up enough but I can't get her to wake up to take the second. I love nursing at around nine at night when I'm at my personal best, my breasts don't feel pained and she is settling down for the night.
All in all, I think recovery from having a child goes a lot faster with formula, but here's hoping I never have to take N2 to the hospital from an asthma attack due to the awesome immunities and health I'm passing her with my breastmilk. Also, I hear that any week now, she will be going from eight to twelve feedings a day to seven to nine feedings. And that I might get four and a half or five hours of a break soon at night. I keep reminding myself that this will not last forever, and that by the time fall rolls around, she'll be eating solids and sleeping a long time and N1 will be going to school more often, so the sleep deprived Ninja Kitten will once again be only minorly sleep deprived rather than openly weeping for lack of sleep most mornings.
20120306
Breastfeeding - Help Me
Okay, men, feel free to skip this post. Other breastfeeding moms, when does the cluster feeding end? Which week? And how do I get my right breast's milk production going? It is vastly outclassed by my crazy milk making left breast. Like half an ounce difference I'm betting.
Other than that, I'm laying (lying?!) on the couch with N2 while P and N nap. We are all happy and I miss blogging.
Other than that, I'm laying (lying?!) on the couch with N2 while P and N nap. We are all happy and I miss blogging.
20120301
Why I Got Suckered Into A Second Child
Many people, knowing how miserable pregnancy is for me, wondered why I would choose to have a second child. Here's the thing -- pregnancy is miserable, but my recovery and babies are amazing. Here's some interesting facts from week 2 of this recovery:
- I'm only two pounds heavier than my starting weight.
- I no longer look even vaguely pregnant -- I'm fitting into more than half of my pre-pregnancy clothes.
- My child is showing inclinations of sleeping through the night -- N2 likes to put her long sleeps together in the evening.
- I stopped bleeding about a week after the C-section and it was never heavy.
- I have stopped needing my meds for pain.
- Breastfeeding appears to be a go, and I'm managing the pain for that fairly well right now.
- I feel good, if tired.
- My son appears to love his sister, or as he calls her, "My baby".
- My husband appears to be in love with his daughter and taking great care of his son.
- He also appears to be in love with me even though I've been a miserable jerk for months now.
- TMI, but I beat out constipation this C-section. In your face, pain meds.
- And I've successfully breastfeed in public already!
20120225
N2: A Birth Story
Twas the night before delivery, and all through the house, not a creature was sleeping, especially not me. No, seriously, I was awake awake awake on Wednesday night, thinking about the IV and the catheter and the spinal and the cutting. Finally, around one thirty in the morning, worn out by anxiety, I dropped into a cat nap, only to be awaken at two in the morning by N screaming in pain. I rushed over to him after P did not wake (that man can sleep). N said to me miserably, "My ear hurts, Mommy!" I just sighed into my hands and said, "Ear infection." After a quick cuddle, he asked to go to my room with me, which I accommodated. Frankly, I slept better with him in my arms than not. His warmth lulled me to sleep again.
At five in the morning, the alarm rang out, and I woke up tense and anxious. After getting ready (while in pain from late pregnancy), we got into the car. I told my husband, "My lips and mouth are dry. I'm thirsty." But nothing for me to drink or eat until after the operation.
We got to the hospital around six, and started the checking in process. I'm sure I looked lovely as I sat there exhausted and trying not to cry. They asked me a series of questions I've forgotten and led me back to the triage. There, they started the process of prepping me. They monitored my baby (turns out I was having small contractions that I couldn't feel) and me and started prepping me for the IV.
At this point, I started to panic. I asked them multiple questions including whether I could get the catheter after the spinal. Yes, they assured me. And they kept trying to keep me calm as I had started to shake violently. The nurse who was giving me the IV looked at me and said, "You're shaking like a poodle." And it was true. I couldn't stop shivering. My body felt like it was trying to shake apart. She assured me it would go fast and it wouldn't hurt that much and everything would be fine. She got the IV in me and I tried not to cry when she blew a vein. (This wrist would end up bruising and hurting severely for the rest of the day. I still have a vague bruise from it, which is better than the all over bruising that circled my wrist like a bracelet.) So, we moved wrists to my left wrist. This time we got it in no problem, but it did hurt for a bit. However, having gotten one of my major fears over, I calmed for a short time.
Then, they asked me what I wanted to listen to during surgery. We picked the Postal Service station of Pandora. At eight, I was taken back to surgery. Here, I lost my shit. P was outside and I was alone with the joking anesthesiologist and the kind nurse. I started to cry. They asked me to sit on the table and I just stared at them in horror. After a few minutes, I got up and they began to prep me for the spinal. I asked them question after question. The anesthesiologist started to get a little annoyed. I can tell. I was now full on weeping and the guy was assuring me that nothing would be too bad. I peppered them with question after question when they told me I would feel them touching, but there would be no pain. I assured them I had felt nothing last time and they questioned this.
Finally, time for the spinal. They gave me something to numb the area first and that stung (enough to make me say much like N, "Ouchie!") and cry more. Then, the spinal, and that took effect and they laid me back. P was led in, but I kept questioning and questioning them. "Will I feel them cut me open? Will it hurt? Will it be okay?"
At this point, Dr. Todd, the anesthesiologist assured me that I would be getting a sedative as soon as little N2 was removed from my womb. I begged for it. They laid me back and I remember telling them I was going to be sick. "I'm nauseous. I'm nauseous!" They pushed my mouth to the side and gave me more drugs to counteract the drop in blood pressure. Then, "My shoulders hurt! Why do my shoulders hurt? Oh, God! Did they start cutting?!"
Poor Dr. Todd. He looked over me and said, "I'm giving you a pain med for the shoulders, but if you don't calm down, we're going to have to knock you out completely. How did you do this last time?" I told him I felt a lot calmer last time and didn't feel anything. He asked me if I had gotten oxygen after the cutting, and I told him they had given me oxygen when I started to panic in prep the last time. He nodded and told me that I had been drugged pre-surgery last time. Then, they asked if I had felt that and I told them I could feel them touching me. Dr. Todd told me they had test cut me and if I really felt anything, I would have been screaming in pain and agony. So, they started.
I felt the same pressure pushing I did with N, and I kept asking, "Why isn't she crying?" P and the doctors and nurses told me she was not out yet. A few minutes later, a weak cry came and they told P to rush over for pictures. Pictures were taken and they started to put me back together like I was Humpty Dumpty. P came back with N2 and I stared at her and they gave me some sedatives. I went from 100% anxiety to about 20% anxiety in minutes. I was able to start chatting more casually as I stared at my daughter in awe.
The next few hours were a giant blur. I had to ask P just now, "Did they bring me N2 in the recovery?" He assured me they did and I tried to breastfeed, but I don't really remember anything besides seeing her in surgery and then being taken to the room where I'd spend the next several days. I do remember thinking that she was a cutie pie that looked almost exactly like her brother.
More about my trials with breastfeeding and how I feel now (roughly a week later) in my next few posts.
At five in the morning, the alarm rang out, and I woke up tense and anxious. After getting ready (while in pain from late pregnancy), we got into the car. I told my husband, "My lips and mouth are dry. I'm thirsty." But nothing for me to drink or eat until after the operation.
We got to the hospital around six, and started the checking in process. I'm sure I looked lovely as I sat there exhausted and trying not to cry. They asked me a series of questions I've forgotten and led me back to the triage. There, they started the process of prepping me. They monitored my baby (turns out I was having small contractions that I couldn't feel) and me and started prepping me for the IV.
At this point, I started to panic. I asked them multiple questions including whether I could get the catheter after the spinal. Yes, they assured me. And they kept trying to keep me calm as I had started to shake violently. The nurse who was giving me the IV looked at me and said, "You're shaking like a poodle." And it was true. I couldn't stop shivering. My body felt like it was trying to shake apart. She assured me it would go fast and it wouldn't hurt that much and everything would be fine. She got the IV in me and I tried not to cry when she blew a vein. (This wrist would end up bruising and hurting severely for the rest of the day. I still have a vague bruise from it, which is better than the all over bruising that circled my wrist like a bracelet.) So, we moved wrists to my left wrist. This time we got it in no problem, but it did hurt for a bit. However, having gotten one of my major fears over, I calmed for a short time.
Then, they asked me what I wanted to listen to during surgery. We picked the Postal Service station of Pandora. At eight, I was taken back to surgery. Here, I lost my shit. P was outside and I was alone with the joking anesthesiologist and the kind nurse. I started to cry. They asked me to sit on the table and I just stared at them in horror. After a few minutes, I got up and they began to prep me for the spinal. I asked them question after question. The anesthesiologist started to get a little annoyed. I can tell. I was now full on weeping and the guy was assuring me that nothing would be too bad. I peppered them with question after question when they told me I would feel them touching, but there would be no pain. I assured them I had felt nothing last time and they questioned this.
Finally, time for the spinal. They gave me something to numb the area first and that stung (enough to make me say much like N, "Ouchie!") and cry more. Then, the spinal, and that took effect and they laid me back. P was led in, but I kept questioning and questioning them. "Will I feel them cut me open? Will it hurt? Will it be okay?"
At this point, Dr. Todd, the anesthesiologist assured me that I would be getting a sedative as soon as little N2 was removed from my womb. I begged for it. They laid me back and I remember telling them I was going to be sick. "I'm nauseous. I'm nauseous!" They pushed my mouth to the side and gave me more drugs to counteract the drop in blood pressure. Then, "My shoulders hurt! Why do my shoulders hurt? Oh, God! Did they start cutting?!"
Poor Dr. Todd. He looked over me and said, "I'm giving you a pain med for the shoulders, but if you don't calm down, we're going to have to knock you out completely. How did you do this last time?" I told him I felt a lot calmer last time and didn't feel anything. He asked me if I had gotten oxygen after the cutting, and I told him they had given me oxygen when I started to panic in prep the last time. He nodded and told me that I had been drugged pre-surgery last time. Then, they asked if I had felt that and I told them I could feel them touching me. Dr. Todd told me they had test cut me and if I really felt anything, I would have been screaming in pain and agony. So, they started.
I felt the same pressure pushing I did with N, and I kept asking, "Why isn't she crying?" P and the doctors and nurses told me she was not out yet. A few minutes later, a weak cry came and they told P to rush over for pictures. Pictures were taken and they started to put me back together like I was Humpty Dumpty. P came back with N2 and I stared at her and they gave me some sedatives. I went from 100% anxiety to about 20% anxiety in minutes. I was able to start chatting more casually as I stared at my daughter in awe.
The next few hours were a giant blur. I had to ask P just now, "Did they bring me N2 in the recovery?" He assured me they did and I tried to breastfeed, but I don't really remember anything besides seeing her in surgery and then being taken to the room where I'd spend the next several days. I do remember thinking that she was a cutie pie that looked almost exactly like her brother.
More about my trials with breastfeeding and how I feel now (roughly a week later) in my next few posts.
20120210
Week 38: One Last Post Before The End?
Sometime around month eight of my pregnancies, I start to lose my damned mind. This is totally true. My husband might argue that this actually occurs around month one of my pregnancies, but I know that I go particularly nuts around month eight. I go crazy in very very specific ways, too. First and foremost, I become convinced that I have all the time in the world for my hobbies.
No lie, for the last three years, I've knitted and played video games, but only casually. I've barely drawn. Suddenly? I'm the knitting queen. I've started a sweater and two hats in the last three weeks and I'm making progress on them. Video games? I just bought the Sims 3 and I wondered to myself, "Should I get Skyrim or Kingdoms of Alamur? Maybe a subscription to Gamefly? Or should I just re-up my old World of Warcraft account?"
I find myself doodling on my computer and in notebooks once again. I casually wonder what it would take to move houses right now. Or to, you know, re-paint our whole house. In the winter. With a new baby.
Secondly, I start to wonder if I have to go through with delivery and labor or if some miracle will occur and the baby will just pop out of me via teleportation. As many of you know, I basically told my husband, my nurses, and my doctor when they were prepping me for my last C-section that I wasn't going to do it. I was just not going to sign the forms. They couldn't make me. They couldn't give me an IV. I didn't want to have the baby. EVER. My husband lovingly tried to convince me that I had to have the baby while the nurses ignored me and prepped everything anyway. (And did the lousiest job on an IV ever. I hope they are more competent this time.)
Lastly, I become a hard core curser. I have over the last several years mainly stopped cursing, but it is back with a vengeance now. Sometimes, I even curse in front of N, even though it is the mild cursing of "damn".
So, let's end this post with a things I consider blessings:
1. My belly button never popped out over two pregnancies. Thank you, belly button.
2. My stretch marks consist of two dots on my tummy and a few short lines on one of my breasts. Thank you, skin.
3. Hot showers continue to improve my day by both making my aches disappear briefly and clearing up my continuously congested nose for a few minutes.
4. My computer chair which leans like the Tower of Pisa has not completely broken apart yet and dropped me into a heap on the floor.
5. The internet for both distracting me and proving that some women out there agree with my assessment of pregnancy.
6. Next week at this time, I will no longer be dealing with the symptoms of pregnancy or anxious fear of C-sections. I will instead be planning on which outfit N2 should be wearing for the visits from friends and family. The Winnie the Pooh onesie or a cupcake sleeper? THOSE ARE THE KIND OF DILEMMAS I PREFER!
No lie, for the last three years, I've knitted and played video games, but only casually. I've barely drawn. Suddenly? I'm the knitting queen. I've started a sweater and two hats in the last three weeks and I'm making progress on them. Video games? I just bought the Sims 3 and I wondered to myself, "Should I get Skyrim or Kingdoms of Alamur? Maybe a subscription to Gamefly? Or should I just re-up my old World of Warcraft account?"
I find myself doodling on my computer and in notebooks once again. I casually wonder what it would take to move houses right now. Or to, you know, re-paint our whole house. In the winter. With a new baby.
Secondly, I start to wonder if I have to go through with delivery and labor or if some miracle will occur and the baby will just pop out of me via teleportation. As many of you know, I basically told my husband, my nurses, and my doctor when they were prepping me for my last C-section that I wasn't going to do it. I was just not going to sign the forms. They couldn't make me. They couldn't give me an IV. I didn't want to have the baby. EVER. My husband lovingly tried to convince me that I had to have the baby while the nurses ignored me and prepped everything anyway. (And did the lousiest job on an IV ever. I hope they are more competent this time.)
Lastly, I become a hard core curser. I have over the last several years mainly stopped cursing, but it is back with a vengeance now. Sometimes, I even curse in front of N, even though it is the mild cursing of "damn".
So, let's end this post with a things I consider blessings:
1. My belly button never popped out over two pregnancies. Thank you, belly button.
2. My stretch marks consist of two dots on my tummy and a few short lines on one of my breasts. Thank you, skin.
3. Hot showers continue to improve my day by both making my aches disappear briefly and clearing up my continuously congested nose for a few minutes.
4. My computer chair which leans like the Tower of Pisa has not completely broken apart yet and dropped me into a heap on the floor.
5. The internet for both distracting me and proving that some women out there agree with my assessment of pregnancy.
6. Next week at this time, I will no longer be dealing with the symptoms of pregnancy or anxious fear of C-sections. I will instead be planning on which outfit N2 should be wearing for the visits from friends and family. The Winnie the Pooh onesie or a cupcake sleeper? THOSE ARE THE KIND OF DILEMMAS I PREFER!
20120205
See You On The Other Side?
I just want to let you all know that I might not be blogging for the next few weeks. I've got stuff to say, but I also think I've gone from anxiety and a mild sadness to actual depression. I can be funny and interesting when anxious and sad. I can't be funny when all I want to do is whine and moan and cry. Since I don't want my depression to taint this blog for now, I've decided it might be best that I hold off on blogging about pregnancy and babies, at least, until I've had my baby. I've yet to decide if I'm going to address my depression with my obgyn since I'm hoping the birth of this baby girl will basically take it (and the discomfort, heartburn, and pain) away, but we will see.
If I manage to get N to model his mittens, I'll post a picture of that and talk about that sewing project.
If I manage to get N to model his mittens, I'll post a picture of that and talk about that sewing project.
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