I don't know where the phrase "It takes a village to raise a child" comes from, although Wikipedia informs me it's from an African proverb, but I first encountered it when former First Lady Hillary Clinton wrote her book with that title. I never read the book, but phrase stuck with me, the idea being that raising children is not an individual task, but rather one that involves lots of people. Although the concept resonated with me, I had no experience to confirm its accuracy.
Growing up, my family was something of an insular unit because we moved roughly every 2 1/2 years. Because my dad was a minister, although we were certainly part of the congregation, because he was often the interim minister, there was no sense of permanency or belonging. Even extended family wasn't readily available, with us visiting my grandparents once or twice a year, as they lived out of state. I can't speak for my parents or siblings, but from my perspective, we never had a village to belong to. Even though my family finally settled down in a single city, I always felt like I was on the outside looking in, never to belong anywhere.
This feeling continued through college graduation. I moved roughly every year, sometimes even more frequently than that. All the while, I kept looking for somewhere to belong and never found it. After I married Phil, I thought having a ready-made church community would help. And, for a while, I did feel part of the church community. Here was a group of people where I found friends that really cared about me. I even found a job where I loved the people I worked with enough to hang out with them after hours. It was not to be, however. Having allowed myself to get attached and start to feel like I belonged, circumstances made it necessary for us to leave.
I didn't want to move to Michigan. First off, there's too much snow and cold and, as I believe I have previously indicated, I am not a fan. Second, it was a small city--about 8,000 people. My mind could barely wrap around the idea of a city smaller than my college. That, and the closest "big" city was Lansing--a city smaller than all but one that I had previously lived in. I was going to be living in a fishbowl and I wasn't particularly thrilled about it. Still, there wasn't really a choice. Phil had gotten a job there and I was going to graduate school.
Phil joined the community before I did, both literally and figuratively. He arrived in late September, whereas I didn't come until the following February. He also met and knew more people than I--from funerals, Rotary, and his chaplaincy with the fire department. I went to school in Lansing and worked in Lansing so, having spent most of my time studying or in Lansing, outside of the church, I didn't really get to know the locals. All that changed with the infertility.
We allowed the public in on our private journey, in part for self-preservation. I didn't want to hear people ask when I was going to have kids, as I would get angry and frustrated, and they wouldn't realize they were stepping on a landmine. It turned out that, by sharing my journey, I received advice from lots of women who had also struggled as well. I had joined a community--those who have fertility issues. Then, when we finally got pregnant, I joined another community--those who had experienced pregnancy. And, now that I have my daughter, I have joined the community of parents. By letting others in on our journey, I had managed to create a support system. I finally had a village.
As it turns out, next month will mark an anniversary of sorts. It will be the longest I have lived consecutively in a single place. And with that anniversary comes the recognition that I feel like I belong here. I love my friends, my job, my community, my church. I don't know that I will ever love the snow, or the weather patterns, but I do think of this place as home. This is my village. And my village is helping me raise Lil' Bit. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
1.19.2011
1.18.2011
How To Feed A Child
Who knew that feeding your new child would be such a harried experience. You're already nervous about your ability to take care of this little person and suddenly you discover that something as simple as feeding it carries a heavy burden. Whether it's the lactation nazis who make you feel like you've never done enough, the formula companies who seduce you with the ease of formula, or the parenting magazines who attempt to walk the line and sing the praises of both, parents are bombarded with tons of advice regarding how and what to feed their children.
While formula feeding was all the rage for my parents' generation, breastfeeding has come back into vogue. We are inundated with radio and television ads advocating the benefits of breastfeeding and are made to feel like failures and stew in a lifetime of guilt if we formula feed. Colostrum is often referred to as "liquid gold" and people who comment on pumping equipment and accessories refer to "every precious drop" and how horrified they are if any is spilled. There are even shields made to collect any milk that is released during the day rather than "wasting it" in a nursing pad in your bra. Then there are the myriad bottles that are made to be "just like mom" or "as close to nature as possible." It's clear that in today's world, breastfeeding is the gold standard and formula-feeding is the also-ran.
What I found missing from all the advice was a recognition that how parents ultimately decide to feed their child depends a great deal on the circumstances of the family and no position, regardless of side, can ever account for the endless possibilities of what brings parents to their ultimate decision. I don't think any woman who gets pregnant plans to formula feed. Even the teenagers of MTV's 16 and Pregnant initially attempt to breastfeed. Any why not? Outside of all the health benefits to mom and baby, it's free! Still, even with all the media pressure to breastfeed, whether parents elect to breastfeed or formula feed, there is plenty of support out there for either decision.
What's frustrating to me is that there is a third option that very few people, medical providers included, consider or recognize. It's not a simple option, or even "ideal" (although none of them is in my book), but it's the one that works best for me. But, before we discuss said option, let's go back and figure out how I got here.
I intended to breastfeed. I knew of the health benefits and was seduced by the thought of effortless weightloss as well as free food. I set up my birth preferences to include immediate bonding and attempts at breastfeeding in an effort to get off to a successful start. Nature, however, had other plans. Between Lil' Bit's need to head to the nursery for oxygen and my erratic heartbeat and fainting, we had little bonding time and no immediate attempts at breastfeeding could be made. When I finally got to the nursery to try breastfeeding, it was a spectacular disaster, with lots of crying on everybody's part. The nurses made a note to get me pumping equipment and to have me meet with the lactation consultant.
In meeting with the lactation consultant, it became clear that breastfeeding was going to take lots of work. Not only was Lil' Bit having issues not wanting to suck because it gave her a headache (the result of her conehead from the long labor and 3-hour pushing session), she kept getting her tongue in the way. We were given a contraption that allowed me to finger-feed Lil' Bit whatever colostrum I was able to pump and then supplement with formula without having to bottlefeed and, in doing so, we would teach her to keep her tongue down. This was an extremely exhausting system, as taping the small tube to a finger and getting said tube and finger into Lil' Bit's mouth was difficult. You wouldn't think so, but trust me on this.
When we would report to the nurses how much she was eating, we were informed that we weren't doing it right. She wasn't eating enough at each feeding. Although I listened thoughtfully, I wasn't sure what the nurse intended me to do. I couldn't make her eat anymore than she was. Besides, if I had been breastfeeding, we'd have no way to know how much she was taking in, so why was there this big to do? Each day I would try to get Lil' Bit to latch, but the lack of immediate food always left her screaming. The nurses told me to stick with it and that once my milk came in, it would be easier, because she would get an immediate response.
Once we got her home, we kept with the pattern. However, it became clear that the finger-feeder was not going to keep up with Lil' Bit. She had an appetite and it could not give her food fast enough. At this point, we elected to feed her from a bottle. I still pumped and we gave her whatever I produced from a bottle first, but if there wasn't enough, we supplemented with formula. I knew giving her the bottle would make breastfeeding more difficult, but the lactation consultant had told me that "going to the breast should be a good experience for the baby, so if she starts screaming, it's time to stop for that attempt." Well, there was always screaming. Remember my previous discussion about a stubborn child? She wanted her food and she wanted it now, thank you very much. I continued to try breastfeeding, but she never did latch. Even after my milk came in and was abundant, she still got her tongue in the way, she bit, she screamed, and we were both left tired and frustrated.
In my exhaustion, I remembered that the point was to give Lil' Bit breastmilk. I was already doing that--albeit by bottle. I was going to have to do that anyway once I got back to work, and this way Phil could help with the feedings. Before Lil' Bit was two weeks old, she was dining exclusively on breastmilk from a bottle without formula supplementation, and does so still today. We had stumbled upon what is known as "exclusive pumping" or "EP." This is option number 3, although it's hard to convince people. Everyone asks if we are breastfeeding or bottlefeeding, and I explain we are bottlefeeding breastmilk. The question should be: are you feeding breastmilk or formula, regardless of the delivery method. With EP, Lil' Bit and I both get the health benefits of breastmilk without the trauma of breastfeeding, and Phil can help with the feedings. It's not perfect. Feeding take longer--I have to warm up the bottle, feed her, and then pump. I am somewhat tied to the pump, as I pump 5-6 times a day at 4-6 hour intervals. And even when she sleeps through the night, I still have to wake up for a pumping session.
Still, doing it this way, I am prepared for when I go back to work and have already begun stockpiling milk in the freezer for when she heads off to daycare. And the truth is, neither breastfeeding nor formula-feeding is perfect either. Each option has benefits and drawbacks and it is up to parents to decide what is best for their child. I just wish there were sources of information out there for parents that outline all the options, highlighting their benefits and drawbacks, without pushing an agenda. As a new parent, I have enough to worry about without feeling as though I have done it all wrong before I barely got started.
*EP is receiving more recognition, such as this article in Time Magazine, but is still not widely accepted.
While formula feeding was all the rage for my parents' generation, breastfeeding has come back into vogue. We are inundated with radio and television ads advocating the benefits of breastfeeding and are made to feel like failures and stew in a lifetime of guilt if we formula feed. Colostrum is often referred to as "liquid gold" and people who comment on pumping equipment and accessories refer to "every precious drop" and how horrified they are if any is spilled. There are even shields made to collect any milk that is released during the day rather than "wasting it" in a nursing pad in your bra. Then there are the myriad bottles that are made to be "just like mom" or "as close to nature as possible." It's clear that in today's world, breastfeeding is the gold standard and formula-feeding is the also-ran.
What I found missing from all the advice was a recognition that how parents ultimately decide to feed their child depends a great deal on the circumstances of the family and no position, regardless of side, can ever account for the endless possibilities of what brings parents to their ultimate decision. I don't think any woman who gets pregnant plans to formula feed. Even the teenagers of MTV's 16 and Pregnant initially attempt to breastfeed. Any why not? Outside of all the health benefits to mom and baby, it's free! Still, even with all the media pressure to breastfeed, whether parents elect to breastfeed or formula feed, there is plenty of support out there for either decision.
What's frustrating to me is that there is a third option that very few people, medical providers included, consider or recognize. It's not a simple option, or even "ideal" (although none of them is in my book), but it's the one that works best for me. But, before we discuss said option, let's go back and figure out how I got here.
I intended to breastfeed. I knew of the health benefits and was seduced by the thought of effortless weightloss as well as free food. I set up my birth preferences to include immediate bonding and attempts at breastfeeding in an effort to get off to a successful start. Nature, however, had other plans. Between Lil' Bit's need to head to the nursery for oxygen and my erratic heartbeat and fainting, we had little bonding time and no immediate attempts at breastfeeding could be made. When I finally got to the nursery to try breastfeeding, it was a spectacular disaster, with lots of crying on everybody's part. The nurses made a note to get me pumping equipment and to have me meet with the lactation consultant.
In meeting with the lactation consultant, it became clear that breastfeeding was going to take lots of work. Not only was Lil' Bit having issues not wanting to suck because it gave her a headache (the result of her conehead from the long labor and 3-hour pushing session), she kept getting her tongue in the way. We were given a contraption that allowed me to finger-feed Lil' Bit whatever colostrum I was able to pump and then supplement with formula without having to bottlefeed and, in doing so, we would teach her to keep her tongue down. This was an extremely exhausting system, as taping the small tube to a finger and getting said tube and finger into Lil' Bit's mouth was difficult. You wouldn't think so, but trust me on this.
When we would report to the nurses how much she was eating, we were informed that we weren't doing it right. She wasn't eating enough at each feeding. Although I listened thoughtfully, I wasn't sure what the nurse intended me to do. I couldn't make her eat anymore than she was. Besides, if I had been breastfeeding, we'd have no way to know how much she was taking in, so why was there this big to do? Each day I would try to get Lil' Bit to latch, but the lack of immediate food always left her screaming. The nurses told me to stick with it and that once my milk came in, it would be easier, because she would get an immediate response.
Once we got her home, we kept with the pattern. However, it became clear that the finger-feeder was not going to keep up with Lil' Bit. She had an appetite and it could not give her food fast enough. At this point, we elected to feed her from a bottle. I still pumped and we gave her whatever I produced from a bottle first, but if there wasn't enough, we supplemented with formula. I knew giving her the bottle would make breastfeeding more difficult, but the lactation consultant had told me that "going to the breast should be a good experience for the baby, so if she starts screaming, it's time to stop for that attempt." Well, there was always screaming. Remember my previous discussion about a stubborn child? She wanted her food and she wanted it now, thank you very much. I continued to try breastfeeding, but she never did latch. Even after my milk came in and was abundant, she still got her tongue in the way, she bit, she screamed, and we were both left tired and frustrated.
In my exhaustion, I remembered that the point was to give Lil' Bit breastmilk. I was already doing that--albeit by bottle. I was going to have to do that anyway once I got back to work, and this way Phil could help with the feedings. Before Lil' Bit was two weeks old, she was dining exclusively on breastmilk from a bottle without formula supplementation, and does so still today. We had stumbled upon what is known as "exclusive pumping" or "EP." This is option number 3, although it's hard to convince people. Everyone asks if we are breastfeeding or bottlefeeding, and I explain we are bottlefeeding breastmilk. The question should be: are you feeding breastmilk or formula, regardless of the delivery method. With EP, Lil' Bit and I both get the health benefits of breastmilk without the trauma of breastfeeding, and Phil can help with the feedings. It's not perfect. Feeding take longer--I have to warm up the bottle, feed her, and then pump. I am somewhat tied to the pump, as I pump 5-6 times a day at 4-6 hour intervals. And even when she sleeps through the night, I still have to wake up for a pumping session.
Still, doing it this way, I am prepared for when I go back to work and have already begun stockpiling milk in the freezer for when she heads off to daycare. And the truth is, neither breastfeeding nor formula-feeding is perfect either. Each option has benefits and drawbacks and it is up to parents to decide what is best for their child. I just wish there were sources of information out there for parents that outline all the options, highlighting their benefits and drawbacks, without pushing an agenda. As a new parent, I have enough to worry about without feeling as though I have done it all wrong before I barely got started.
*EP is receiving more recognition, such as this article in Time Magazine, but is still not widely accepted.
1.17.2011
Birth Story
Dear readers, my apologies for having not written in over two months. It turns out that having a newborn is not conducive to free time, let alone trying to write. Now that she is starting to sleep longer, I am going to attempt to share with you things I have learned or am learning. However, before we can get to that, we should start with Lil' Bit's birth. So, without further adieu, the main event.
WARNING: May be graphic.
When last we left our story, I was waiting not so patiently for my induction on November 17. So, November 17 arrives. My in-laws have come to town to help out after the baby is born and we are getting all things ready. At 3pm, I dutifully call the hospital to see if they have room for me. Turns out they are already full to bursting with birthing mothers and put me on "delay" and told me to call back at 5pm. [Ultimately, the 17th through the 21st will turn out to be extremely busy at the hospital, in part because many mommas-to-be are trying to give birth before an impending strike at the hospital (a strike that never comes, but gets very close).]
Five o'clock arrives and I call labor and delivery (L&D) again. They are still full and I am advised to call back at 7pm if I have not heard from them before that time. Each time the phone rings I hope it's them, but it never is. I call the hospital back at 7pm--I am nothing if not punctual. They inform me that they have deliveries happening that might make room and I should call back at 8pm. There's hope yet!
I make my 8pm call and am given a new plan. I am to go to bed and get some rest and call back at 7:30am to see if they have room for me to come in at 8am. So, induction will not start until Nov 18, but there's still hope Lil' Bit will share Mickey's birthday. It's hard to get to sleep, but I finally manage it. I am tired when I wake up early to make sure I am ready to leave the house at 7:30am if I am given the go-ahead. When I call, they tell me that they will call me back, but don't give me a time frame. To say that I am frustrated at this point would have been an understatement. I inform the family that we are not yet on our way and wait for the phone to ring.
I receive my call shortly before 8:00am--yay! I am to come in at 11am to begin the induction. Excitement ensues as does a little bit of terror. How long will this take? What will it be like? When will Lil' Bit arrive? I don't remember exactly what we did that morning, but I remember we ran an errand before we all left for this hospital. My in-laws followed in a separate car and we all arrived shortly before 11am. I got checked in and was put in one of the L&D rooms. I changed into my special laboring clothes, got hooked up, and waited for things to begin. Labs were drawn and they checked my cervix--still only 2cm dilated. The first doctor from the practice began the induction. I was given a dose of Cytotec (oral) and waited. My good friend Kate (Lil' Bit's godmother and a nurse) arrived shortly thereafter. She told me that only I could look good while laboring. It gave me a nice boost.
According to the monitor, I began to have really good contractions, although I never really felt much. However, I never got more dilated. At 5pm, the first doctor's 24-hour shift was over, and the second doctor from the practice came on-call. By 6:30pm, the consensus was that I could eat dinner and they gave me another dose of Cytotec. I had to eat a "healthy" meal because they were still checking my blood sugar levels. Bummer!
I finally started feeling real labor pains. Nothing terribly horrible, but they were certainly uncomfortable. Still, no change. The in-laws rented a hotel room to be nearby in case anything happened and headed out for the evening. It was becoming clear that we were not going to have a Mickey Mouse birthday. Still, I had friends and relatives with Nov 19th birthdays, so Lil' Bit was still likely to have to share.
Sometime in the early morning of Nov 19, the contractions finally started getting uncomfortable. Sometime between 3:30 and 4am, my water spontaneously broke. At this point, I knew I would be having my baby within about 24 hours. No turning back now. They checked me, but I still wasn't any further dilated. They did an ultrasound to make sure Lil' Bit was still head down--she was--and started me on Pitocin. Labor pains started getting painful and I couldn't get any sleep. I talked to the doctors about my pain choices--Nubain or an epidural. I was concerned about getting an epidural because of all the research I had done that said getting an epidural before you are 4cm dilated can slow down labor and often ultimately results in a C-section. However, I respond extremely poorly to all narcotics, so I wasn't really wanting to see how I responded to Nubain either. The truth was, if I didn't progress much further, I'd likely have a C-section anyway, which would require a spinal if I didn't already have an epidural. I realized that I had been laboring for roughly 16 hours with no progress--I didn't see how an epidural could slow me down any further. So, I took the epidural. Turns out to be the best choice I could have made for multiple reasons.
The first benefit from the epidural was that the pain relief allowed me to rest and relax my body, which immediately began to progress. At the 24 hour mark, we had finally reached 80% effacement and 5-6cm dilation. By 2pm, I was 10cm dilated and Lil' Bit's head had reached 0 station. The doctors said I could labor down for a while and she how she did on her own. I managed to wait about an hour before I decided that Lil' Bit wasn't that far away, I would try and push. [This is the one decision I would do differently if I had to do it all over again--I would have waited for her to labor down longer.]
Pushing is difficult. Everyone talks about the pain, but no one talks about the effort. Pushing requires using muscles you don't really use and to coordinate them in ways your body is not used to. After a few pushes, I really wanted to say--oh, wow, this is harder than I expected, can we go back to waiting? I didn't, though. I just kept going. At 5pm, the second doctor's shift was over and doctor number three from the practice took over.
I ate lots of ice during labor. In fact, it became something of a routine. I would feel the contraction coming before it would register on the monitor. I would signal one was coming. Phil would take one leg, Kate would take the other, and I would do three long pushes per contraction (I would count to 10 in my head for each push). After the third push, I would eat some ice and wait for the next contraction. It was, in part, because of this routine that I did not realize how much time had passed. I did notice that I was exhausted, however. By the end, I really just wanted them to take her out, but we were past the point of no return and it was all me. In the end, I had pushed for 3 hours. It was my first indicator that Lil' Bit was going to be like me--stubborn. She would not be rushed, thank you very much. Lil' Bit made her arrival at 6:45pm, 8lbs, 8 oz, 21 inches. I got to hold her briefly, but she would scream and then hold her breath (our second indicator of stubbornness), so she had to be taken off to the nursery to be given oxygen. This ended up being a good thing, because I was unable to care for her.
Because food service ended at 7pm, they ordered me a food tray to eat when I was ready--I got waffles! I never got to eat it, though. First, they finished up the delivery. Delivery of the placenta was painful. It was quite attached and, upon finally being delivered, was quite large--my friend pronounced it to be "as big as a cow's." The doctors then spent a good deal of time sewing me up. I had two level two tears (meaning it includes the muscles); one on each side. This was another reason I was glad to have the epidural--both the tearing and the sewing up would have been much more painful. As it was, I felt neither. I had lost a good deal of blood during delivery, in part because of the tears, and then proceeded to vomit up all the water from the ice I had eaten. The food got taken away. I began to experience erratic heartbeat and at one point they considered giving me a transfusion. I fainted several times, so they couldn't move me out of the L&D room to the Mother & Baby wing. [This was a problem for them, because they needed the room for other laboring women.]
Still, even with all this crazy stuff going on, I kept my humor. When the nurses attempted to take me to the restroom, I promptly fainted. They popped an ammonia popper and waived it under my nose and began repeating "can you smell that?" I answered, "Yes. It reminds me that I need to do my roots." This response prompted the head nurse to pronounce me recovered, so they hauled me back up, where I promptly fainted again. This taught the nurse that just because I can be funny and coherent doesn't mean I won't faint.
We stayed in the room until, at 1:30am, the nurse came in and announced that we were being moved to the Mother & Baby wing--they managed to get me in a wheelchair. Although she had been quite gruff and was not one of my favorite nurses, she did swing me by the nursery to see Lil' Bit before she took me to my room. It was wonderful to see her, but hard for me because she was in an isolette because she was getting oxygen. I put my hands in and stroked her for a while. It was hard to believe she was mine. She was beautiful--even if she had a major Aztec cone-head from the 3 hours of pushing. I cried a little and then we headed to the new room. There, I finally got some rest and got to eat some breakfast. Although I could sit up, I couldn't stand without blacking out, so my goal for that day was to finally get enough to eat and drink that my body could get better and Lil' Bit could finally join us. Until then, they took me by wheelchair to the nursery to try and breastfeed Lil' Bit. Needless to say, it didn't go well. But that is the beginning of another story...
For now, we shall remain wrapped in the memory of the excitement and revelation that I had managed to give birth to my daughter.
WARNING: May be graphic.
When last we left our story, I was waiting not so patiently for my induction on November 17. So, November 17 arrives. My in-laws have come to town to help out after the baby is born and we are getting all things ready. At 3pm, I dutifully call the hospital to see if they have room for me. Turns out they are already full to bursting with birthing mothers and put me on "delay" and told me to call back at 5pm. [Ultimately, the 17th through the 21st will turn out to be extremely busy at the hospital, in part because many mommas-to-be are trying to give birth before an impending strike at the hospital (a strike that never comes, but gets very close).]
Five o'clock arrives and I call labor and delivery (L&D) again. They are still full and I am advised to call back at 7pm if I have not heard from them before that time. Each time the phone rings I hope it's them, but it never is. I call the hospital back at 7pm--I am nothing if not punctual. They inform me that they have deliveries happening that might make room and I should call back at 8pm. There's hope yet!
I make my 8pm call and am given a new plan. I am to go to bed and get some rest and call back at 7:30am to see if they have room for me to come in at 8am. So, induction will not start until Nov 18, but there's still hope Lil' Bit will share Mickey's birthday. It's hard to get to sleep, but I finally manage it. I am tired when I wake up early to make sure I am ready to leave the house at 7:30am if I am given the go-ahead. When I call, they tell me that they will call me back, but don't give me a time frame. To say that I am frustrated at this point would have been an understatement. I inform the family that we are not yet on our way and wait for the phone to ring.
I receive my call shortly before 8:00am--yay! I am to come in at 11am to begin the induction. Excitement ensues as does a little bit of terror. How long will this take? What will it be like? When will Lil' Bit arrive? I don't remember exactly what we did that morning, but I remember we ran an errand before we all left for this hospital. My in-laws followed in a separate car and we all arrived shortly before 11am. I got checked in and was put in one of the L&D rooms. I changed into my special laboring clothes, got hooked up, and waited for things to begin. Labs were drawn and they checked my cervix--still only 2cm dilated. The first doctor from the practice began the induction. I was given a dose of Cytotec (oral) and waited. My good friend Kate (Lil' Bit's godmother and a nurse) arrived shortly thereafter. She told me that only I could look good while laboring. It gave me a nice boost.
According to the monitor, I began to have really good contractions, although I never really felt much. However, I never got more dilated. At 5pm, the first doctor's 24-hour shift was over, and the second doctor from the practice came on-call. By 6:30pm, the consensus was that I could eat dinner and they gave me another dose of Cytotec. I had to eat a "healthy" meal because they were still checking my blood sugar levels. Bummer!
I finally started feeling real labor pains. Nothing terribly horrible, but they were certainly uncomfortable. Still, no change. The in-laws rented a hotel room to be nearby in case anything happened and headed out for the evening. It was becoming clear that we were not going to have a Mickey Mouse birthday. Still, I had friends and relatives with Nov 19th birthdays, so Lil' Bit was still likely to have to share.
Sometime in the early morning of Nov 19, the contractions finally started getting uncomfortable. Sometime between 3:30 and 4am, my water spontaneously broke. At this point, I knew I would be having my baby within about 24 hours. No turning back now. They checked me, but I still wasn't any further dilated. They did an ultrasound to make sure Lil' Bit was still head down--she was--and started me on Pitocin. Labor pains started getting painful and I couldn't get any sleep. I talked to the doctors about my pain choices--Nubain or an epidural. I was concerned about getting an epidural because of all the research I had done that said getting an epidural before you are 4cm dilated can slow down labor and often ultimately results in a C-section. However, I respond extremely poorly to all narcotics, so I wasn't really wanting to see how I responded to Nubain either. The truth was, if I didn't progress much further, I'd likely have a C-section anyway, which would require a spinal if I didn't already have an epidural. I realized that I had been laboring for roughly 16 hours with no progress--I didn't see how an epidural could slow me down any further. So, I took the epidural. Turns out to be the best choice I could have made for multiple reasons.
The first benefit from the epidural was that the pain relief allowed me to rest and relax my body, which immediately began to progress. At the 24 hour mark, we had finally reached 80% effacement and 5-6cm dilation. By 2pm, I was 10cm dilated and Lil' Bit's head had reached 0 station. The doctors said I could labor down for a while and she how she did on her own. I managed to wait about an hour before I decided that Lil' Bit wasn't that far away, I would try and push. [This is the one decision I would do differently if I had to do it all over again--I would have waited for her to labor down longer.]
Pushing is difficult. Everyone talks about the pain, but no one talks about the effort. Pushing requires using muscles you don't really use and to coordinate them in ways your body is not used to. After a few pushes, I really wanted to say--oh, wow, this is harder than I expected, can we go back to waiting? I didn't, though. I just kept going. At 5pm, the second doctor's shift was over and doctor number three from the practice took over.
I ate lots of ice during labor. In fact, it became something of a routine. I would feel the contraction coming before it would register on the monitor. I would signal one was coming. Phil would take one leg, Kate would take the other, and I would do three long pushes per contraction (I would count to 10 in my head for each push). After the third push, I would eat some ice and wait for the next contraction. It was, in part, because of this routine that I did not realize how much time had passed. I did notice that I was exhausted, however. By the end, I really just wanted them to take her out, but we were past the point of no return and it was all me. In the end, I had pushed for 3 hours. It was my first indicator that Lil' Bit was going to be like me--stubborn. She would not be rushed, thank you very much. Lil' Bit made her arrival at 6:45pm, 8lbs, 8 oz, 21 inches. I got to hold her briefly, but she would scream and then hold her breath (our second indicator of stubbornness), so she had to be taken off to the nursery to be given oxygen. This ended up being a good thing, because I was unable to care for her.
Because food service ended at 7pm, they ordered me a food tray to eat when I was ready--I got waffles! I never got to eat it, though. First, they finished up the delivery. Delivery of the placenta was painful. It was quite attached and, upon finally being delivered, was quite large--my friend pronounced it to be "as big as a cow's." The doctors then spent a good deal of time sewing me up. I had two level two tears (meaning it includes the muscles); one on each side. This was another reason I was glad to have the epidural--both the tearing and the sewing up would have been much more painful. As it was, I felt neither. I had lost a good deal of blood during delivery, in part because of the tears, and then proceeded to vomit up all the water from the ice I had eaten. The food got taken away. I began to experience erratic heartbeat and at one point they considered giving me a transfusion. I fainted several times, so they couldn't move me out of the L&D room to the Mother & Baby wing. [This was a problem for them, because they needed the room for other laboring women.]
Still, even with all this crazy stuff going on, I kept my humor. When the nurses attempted to take me to the restroom, I promptly fainted. They popped an ammonia popper and waived it under my nose and began repeating "can you smell that?" I answered, "Yes. It reminds me that I need to do my roots." This response prompted the head nurse to pronounce me recovered, so they hauled me back up, where I promptly fainted again. This taught the nurse that just because I can be funny and coherent doesn't mean I won't faint.
We stayed in the room until, at 1:30am, the nurse came in and announced that we were being moved to the Mother & Baby wing--they managed to get me in a wheelchair. Although she had been quite gruff and was not one of my favorite nurses, she did swing me by the nursery to see Lil' Bit before she took me to my room. It was wonderful to see her, but hard for me because she was in an isolette because she was getting oxygen. I put my hands in and stroked her for a while. It was hard to believe she was mine. She was beautiful--even if she had a major Aztec cone-head from the 3 hours of pushing. I cried a little and then we headed to the new room. There, I finally got some rest and got to eat some breakfast. Although I could sit up, I couldn't stand without blacking out, so my goal for that day was to finally get enough to eat and drink that my body could get better and Lil' Bit could finally join us. Until then, they took me by wheelchair to the nursery to try and breastfeed Lil' Bit. Needless to say, it didn't go well. But that is the beginning of another story...
For now, we shall remain wrapped in the memory of the excitement and revelation that I had managed to give birth to my daughter.
11.08.2010
A Mickey Mouse Operation
On November 18, 1928, Mickey Mouse made his debut in "Steamboat Willie." Some 82 years later, it appears that my dear daughter will quite possibly share this memorable day with Mr. Mouse. An interesting turn of events given how Disney obsessed I have been for most of my life.
Today's doctor visit included a growth check. Baby is roughly 7 lbs--66th percentile. She is still head down, but has turned back toward the front again. She seems to swap back and forth between front and back with each visit. If the pattern holds, she'll be facing back again next week in time for labor. Yay!
Today's visit also included the scheduling of my induction. Provided my little girl doesn't come early, I head to the hospital the evening of Nov. 17 for induction. Sadly, my doc is not the one on call that day. However, the doc that is on call is one I met twice before, and I am comfortable with her.
The plan appears to be that I will receive drugs to ripen the cervix which will work overnight so that by morning, labor will either start on its own, or I will get pitocin to start contractions. This creates a high likelihood that my baby will be born on the 18th. Incidentally, I have two dear friends whose birthdays straddle the 18th, so if she comes on the 17th or 19th, she will also be in good birthday sharing company. Still, I'm a little amused at the idea of her sharing Mickey Mouse's birthday.
Outside of baby deciding to come early, the only other potential hiccup in the plan is if the hospital is full up. I have instructions to call a few hours prior to the time I'm supposed to arrive and make sure they can take me. If they are busy with moms already in labor, I will get bumped, and then who knows what happens from there. Thus, although there's still some wiggle room in all of this, we have a plan. And as you all know by now, plans make me happy.
All of this puts me about 9 days away from the beginning of the beginning. It's a little hard to believe that it's so soon, and yet it still feels so far away. I think it's now time to try and enjoy the time I have left bring pregnant. After all, there's no guarantee I can get pregnant again, or that we'll choose to afford to. This may be it. It's time to stop looking ahead and start living in and enjoying the moments I have left--however uncomfortable they may be.
So, here's to my remaining days of pregnancy. May I find ways to celebrate, rejoice, and enjoy them. After all, once she arrives, I have to share her. Until then, she's still all mine. Oh, and here's to my little girl coming before Thanksgiving, so I can indulge in all those wonderful carbs!
Today's doctor visit included a growth check. Baby is roughly 7 lbs--66th percentile. She is still head down, but has turned back toward the front again. She seems to swap back and forth between front and back with each visit. If the pattern holds, she'll be facing back again next week in time for labor. Yay!
Today's visit also included the scheduling of my induction. Provided my little girl doesn't come early, I head to the hospital the evening of Nov. 17 for induction. Sadly, my doc is not the one on call that day. However, the doc that is on call is one I met twice before, and I am comfortable with her.
The plan appears to be that I will receive drugs to ripen the cervix which will work overnight so that by morning, labor will either start on its own, or I will get pitocin to start contractions. This creates a high likelihood that my baby will be born on the 18th. Incidentally, I have two dear friends whose birthdays straddle the 18th, so if she comes on the 17th or 19th, she will also be in good birthday sharing company. Still, I'm a little amused at the idea of her sharing Mickey Mouse's birthday.
Outside of baby deciding to come early, the only other potential hiccup in the plan is if the hospital is full up. I have instructions to call a few hours prior to the time I'm supposed to arrive and make sure they can take me. If they are busy with moms already in labor, I will get bumped, and then who knows what happens from there. Thus, although there's still some wiggle room in all of this, we have a plan. And as you all know by now, plans make me happy.
All of this puts me about 9 days away from the beginning of the beginning. It's a little hard to believe that it's so soon, and yet it still feels so far away. I think it's now time to try and enjoy the time I have left bring pregnant. After all, there's no guarantee I can get pregnant again, or that we'll choose to afford to. This may be it. It's time to stop looking ahead and start living in and enjoying the moments I have left--however uncomfortable they may be.
So, here's to my remaining days of pregnancy. May I find ways to celebrate, rejoice, and enjoy them. After all, once she arrives, I have to share her. Until then, she's still all mine. Oh, and here's to my little girl coming before Thanksgiving, so I can indulge in all those wonderful carbs!
11.01.2010
Sooner It Is
First things first. Tomorrow I reach 37 weeks, so my daughter will be considered full term and can arrive at any time. This news provides me both with anxiety and a great sense of relief. Relief because we made it and anxiety because she may come sooner than I was prepared for. Still, I doubt that I will somehow get more prepared in the next 3 weeks, so I suppose I am as prepared now as I'm ever going to be.
I am also less anxious this week, as we have finally acquired the last of the truly necessary baby items--a car seat we can bring her home in! After three baby showers, we have been graciously gifted with so many wonderful things for our daughter that I get teary-eyed just thinking about it. Her room is almost completely set up and ready for her arrival--even if the cats are not. I finally quit freaking out about the "what-ifs" and washed some of the new items so that we can actually use them. It's been such an amazing ride so far, it's hard to believe that this part is almost over and "the rest of the story" is about to begin. It just turns out that "the rest of the story" is going to happen sooner, rather than later.
Sooner? Yup--based on my doctor visit today, when I learned who "won." First, because she's my official doctor, her opinion rules. Yay! This was the answer I was hoping for. Second, because I am an insulin dependent diabetic, they will induce me sometime in week 39--provided my dear daughter has not decided to arrive sooner. Whether we are closer to the front end of week 39 or the back end of week 39 will depend in part on my visit next Monday, when my doc will check to see if I have started making any progress on my own.
There are good and bad things about induction. The good--we're almost guaranteed to get my doctor for delivery, and I will know what day things will happen (again, baby willing). Also, she will definitely be here for Thanksgiving, so I don't have to worry about my family showing up and me being at the hospital giving birth. The bad--induced labors tend to be more difficult and more often lead to additional interventions and c-sections. Obviously there are plenty of women who have induced labors who don't have problems, and that will likely be my experience, but that doesn't mean I'm not anxious about the idea that medicine will jump start the process rather than letting it occur naturally. Still, the planner in me can't help but be a little excited about this turn of events, which only leads me to believe that she'll come early just so she can do it on her own terms. Honestly, I'm a little afraid of the stubborn wars I sense in my future.
Ultimately, however, all of the information I received today and the emotions that have come along with it have left me feeling like a kid playing a game of tag. Ready or not, here she comes.
I am also less anxious this week, as we have finally acquired the last of the truly necessary baby items--a car seat we can bring her home in! After three baby showers, we have been graciously gifted with so many wonderful things for our daughter that I get teary-eyed just thinking about it. Her room is almost completely set up and ready for her arrival--even if the cats are not. I finally quit freaking out about the "what-ifs" and washed some of the new items so that we can actually use them. It's been such an amazing ride so far, it's hard to believe that this part is almost over and "the rest of the story" is about to begin. It just turns out that "the rest of the story" is going to happen sooner, rather than later.
Sooner? Yup--based on my doctor visit today, when I learned who "won." First, because she's my official doctor, her opinion rules. Yay! This was the answer I was hoping for. Second, because I am an insulin dependent diabetic, they will induce me sometime in week 39--provided my dear daughter has not decided to arrive sooner. Whether we are closer to the front end of week 39 or the back end of week 39 will depend in part on my visit next Monday, when my doc will check to see if I have started making any progress on my own.
There are good and bad things about induction. The good--we're almost guaranteed to get my doctor for delivery, and I will know what day things will happen (again, baby willing). Also, she will definitely be here for Thanksgiving, so I don't have to worry about my family showing up and me being at the hospital giving birth. The bad--induced labors tend to be more difficult and more often lead to additional interventions and c-sections. Obviously there are plenty of women who have induced labors who don't have problems, and that will likely be my experience, but that doesn't mean I'm not anxious about the idea that medicine will jump start the process rather than letting it occur naturally. Still, the planner in me can't help but be a little excited about this turn of events, which only leads me to believe that she'll come early just so she can do it on her own terms. Honestly, I'm a little afraid of the stubborn wars I sense in my future.
Ultimately, however, all of the information I received today and the emotions that have come along with it have left me feeling like a kid playing a game of tag. Ready or not, here she comes.
10.25.2010
Gonna Need a Tiebreaker
So this week started my twice-weekly visits to the doctor's office. Mondays are long visits where I have an ultrasound, NST (non-stress test), and doctor visit. Thursdays are short visits where I have another NST.
Today's NST results were fine--I did not appear to have any contractions and baby's heartrate was good. The ultrasound results were also good. We didn't get a new size measurement, but the fluid levels were good. Although still head down, she has turned from facing the back to the side, so we could finally see her face. She's quite a cutie, if I do say so myself. The ultrasound tech also told us (and showed us) that baby has hair. Yay! Phil joked with the tech about whether she could tell if it was red or blonde. She answered, "As far as we can tell, all babies are tow-heads because it always shows up white." Can't wait to find out if I got my curly, red-headed baby!
Next up was the visit with the doc. She said that my sugar levels looked great, so they would leave the insulin level where it was (yay!). She measured my stomach and, even though it was a little big, thought it was fine. She asked if I had any questions and I said, "Well, I asked the doc at my last visit this question, but got a different answer from nurses since then so I just wanted to check--since I'm insulin dependent, will I be allowed to go past my due date." Her answer was that in all likelihood, if I don't go into labor beforehand, I will be induced at 39 weeks. Hmmm. So, now I have one who says 39 weeks, and one who says I can go as long as everything is fine. Now, maybe the odds are that with the insulin dependency, things don't stay fine past the due date so it's really the same answer, but it doesn't really seem that way, and I was surprised to get such divergent answers. Rather than argue (what would be the point--she answered my question), I decided that at next Monday's visit, when I get to see MY doc, rather than rotating through the others in the practice as I have been doing, I will find out what she says. She can be the tiebreaker, as it were. After all, since she's my official doc, I would assume things would go by what she does.
Either way, things are very close now, and I find myself fluctuating between excited and terrified more frequently than ever. Still, having gotten a picture of my daughter's face, I would say that, at least for the rest of today, I am simply excited.
Today's NST results were fine--I did not appear to have any contractions and baby's heartrate was good. The ultrasound results were also good. We didn't get a new size measurement, but the fluid levels were good. Although still head down, she has turned from facing the back to the side, so we could finally see her face. She's quite a cutie, if I do say so myself. The ultrasound tech also told us (and showed us) that baby has hair. Yay! Phil joked with the tech about whether she could tell if it was red or blonde. She answered, "As far as we can tell, all babies are tow-heads because it always shows up white." Can't wait to find out if I got my curly, red-headed baby!
Next up was the visit with the doc. She said that my sugar levels looked great, so they would leave the insulin level where it was (yay!). She measured my stomach and, even though it was a little big, thought it was fine. She asked if I had any questions and I said, "Well, I asked the doc at my last visit this question, but got a different answer from nurses since then so I just wanted to check--since I'm insulin dependent, will I be allowed to go past my due date." Her answer was that in all likelihood, if I don't go into labor beforehand, I will be induced at 39 weeks. Hmmm. So, now I have one who says 39 weeks, and one who says I can go as long as everything is fine. Now, maybe the odds are that with the insulin dependency, things don't stay fine past the due date so it's really the same answer, but it doesn't really seem that way, and I was surprised to get such divergent answers. Rather than argue (what would be the point--she answered my question), I decided that at next Monday's visit, when I get to see MY doc, rather than rotating through the others in the practice as I have been doing, I will find out what she says. She can be the tiebreaker, as it were. After all, since she's my official doc, I would assume things would go by what she does.
Either way, things are very close now, and I find myself fluctuating between excited and terrified more frequently than ever. Still, having gotten a picture of my daughter's face, I would say that, at least for the rest of today, I am simply excited.
10.16.2010
Just Testing
I did not intend to have a trial run, yesterday. The universe, however, had other plans.
Yesterday started as a really good day, what with it being Friday and all. I was the only one in the office, making it nice and quiet and allowing me to get lots done. Around 3:00, I began to feel a headache coming on. No biggy. I've had a few recently and it's apparently very normal in the third trimester. Well, by 6:30, it had only gotten worse, so I looked at my handy-dandy sheet from my doctor and it said I could take Tylenol, regular or extra-strength. So, I did. Usually, this makes me feel better in about 30 minutes. No such luck. By 7:30, I was re-reading the label to find out when I could take more--not anytime soon. I went back to my doctor's handout. For headaches lasting 2-3 hours after taking Tylenol, I was to call the practice if open, otherwise, head to the hospital. This is because headaches can be a sign of preeclampsia--something for which I am now at a higher risk because of the GD.
Crud. I'm sure it's fine. I don't want to go to the hospital. I have another hour. I'll just lay down, maybe fall asleep. It will go away. Wrong. 8:20 arrives and headache is still present. I alert Phil and we head out to the hospital. "Best case scenario," I tell him, "this thing goes away on the way there." "Best case," he tell me, "is it goes away before we leave the garage." I smile slightly, but no such luck. He decides to time the drive just so we'll know for "the real thing"--25 minutes driving "regular" speed. We arrive--headache still present. Well, at least I didn't make us drive to the city for nothing.
We go up to the OB triage floor, give them my info and wait. All of their rooms are full, but they will get me in as soon as they can. We sit out in the lobby, along with lots of families who are there to support laboring mamas elsewhere on the floor. About 30 minutes later, we get called back to one of the observation rooms. We chat with the nurse and I get hooked up to the monitors--one checking baby's heart rate and the other monitoring contractions. Seeing as I am feeling nothing but my headache, I am surprised when the nurse asks me if I felt "that contraction." Nope, I tell her.
They runs lots of tests and the resident comes in to talk with me. All the tests are coming back fine and baby is doing extremely well. They are going to give me a prescription med for the headache and see how that goes. If it doesn't work, they'll try something through an IV. Also, they are going to give me a shot to stop the contractions. What?! Turns out, I'm having quite regular contractions every two minutes, but not feeling them. Alrighty, then. The nurse comes in and shows me the chart and, sure enough, there they are. Huh. I never would have thought I could have contractions and not feel them. Who knew?!
Anyway, the meds work like a charm. The contractions stopped and the headache went away without having to resort to IV meds. Yay! They check to make sure I'm not dilated (nope--0-1), and get ready to send me home. Before they clear me to leave, they want to take my blood pressure one more time (high blood pressure is also a sign of preeclampsia). Instead of dropping, as they had expected, it was the highest I had ever had--150 over something. Yeah. That's a problem. So, the resident comes back in. Since all the other tests were clear, I get to go home, but they want me to come back Sunday morning for more monitoring and another set of tests, just to be sure. If those tests come back fine, they will look at treating me for high blood pressure.
Sunday morning. Right. Obviously, Phil is not going to be able to go with me. Do I go by myself? Try and find someone to go with me? It's the church's annual Harvest Feast on Sunday and many of my friends will be involved with that. Phooey. Can't ask them to go. I unilaterally decide that I will just go by myself. After all, I don't expect them to find anything wrong. But, when I see some friends at the church this morning, and they all ask, "who's going with you?", I realize that I probably ought to take someone. So, I promise them that I will not go by myself.
Ultimately, I found a good friend who I would be comfortable having with me in the room as I wear nothing but a hospital gown and get poked and prodded in embarrassing ways. She is going to pick me up in the morning and we'll go get me checked out. I am fairly certain this will all be fine. I even did a free blood pressure check at the store when I picked up my script today and it was back to where it should be. I think it just got high from the meds they gave me to stop the contractions. Nevertheless, I will go and let the professionals do what they do. I'd rather be safe than sorry. And, hey, at least I'll be quite familiar with the process for when it's really time.
Yesterday started as a really good day, what with it being Friday and all. I was the only one in the office, making it nice and quiet and allowing me to get lots done. Around 3:00, I began to feel a headache coming on. No biggy. I've had a few recently and it's apparently very normal in the third trimester. Well, by 6:30, it had only gotten worse, so I looked at my handy-dandy sheet from my doctor and it said I could take Tylenol, regular or extra-strength. So, I did. Usually, this makes me feel better in about 30 minutes. No such luck. By 7:30, I was re-reading the label to find out when I could take more--not anytime soon. I went back to my doctor's handout. For headaches lasting 2-3 hours after taking Tylenol, I was to call the practice if open, otherwise, head to the hospital. This is because headaches can be a sign of preeclampsia--something for which I am now at a higher risk because of the GD.
Crud. I'm sure it's fine. I don't want to go to the hospital. I have another hour. I'll just lay down, maybe fall asleep. It will go away. Wrong. 8:20 arrives and headache is still present. I alert Phil and we head out to the hospital. "Best case scenario," I tell him, "this thing goes away on the way there." "Best case," he tell me, "is it goes away before we leave the garage." I smile slightly, but no such luck. He decides to time the drive just so we'll know for "the real thing"--25 minutes driving "regular" speed. We arrive--headache still present. Well, at least I didn't make us drive to the city for nothing.
We go up to the OB triage floor, give them my info and wait. All of their rooms are full, but they will get me in as soon as they can. We sit out in the lobby, along with lots of families who are there to support laboring mamas elsewhere on the floor. About 30 minutes later, we get called back to one of the observation rooms. We chat with the nurse and I get hooked up to the monitors--one checking baby's heart rate and the other monitoring contractions. Seeing as I am feeling nothing but my headache, I am surprised when the nurse asks me if I felt "that contraction." Nope, I tell her.
They runs lots of tests and the resident comes in to talk with me. All the tests are coming back fine and baby is doing extremely well. They are going to give me a prescription med for the headache and see how that goes. If it doesn't work, they'll try something through an IV. Also, they are going to give me a shot to stop the contractions. What?! Turns out, I'm having quite regular contractions every two minutes, but not feeling them. Alrighty, then. The nurse comes in and shows me the chart and, sure enough, there they are. Huh. I never would have thought I could have contractions and not feel them. Who knew?!
Anyway, the meds work like a charm. The contractions stopped and the headache went away without having to resort to IV meds. Yay! They check to make sure I'm not dilated (nope--0-1), and get ready to send me home. Before they clear me to leave, they want to take my blood pressure one more time (high blood pressure is also a sign of preeclampsia). Instead of dropping, as they had expected, it was the highest I had ever had--150 over something. Yeah. That's a problem. So, the resident comes back in. Since all the other tests were clear, I get to go home, but they want me to come back Sunday morning for more monitoring and another set of tests, just to be sure. If those tests come back fine, they will look at treating me for high blood pressure.
Sunday morning. Right. Obviously, Phil is not going to be able to go with me. Do I go by myself? Try and find someone to go with me? It's the church's annual Harvest Feast on Sunday and many of my friends will be involved with that. Phooey. Can't ask them to go. I unilaterally decide that I will just go by myself. After all, I don't expect them to find anything wrong. But, when I see some friends at the church this morning, and they all ask, "who's going with you?", I realize that I probably ought to take someone. So, I promise them that I will not go by myself.
Ultimately, I found a good friend who I would be comfortable having with me in the room as I wear nothing but a hospital gown and get poked and prodded in embarrassing ways. She is going to pick me up in the morning and we'll go get me checked out. I am fairly certain this will all be fine. I even did a free blood pressure check at the store when I picked up my script today and it was back to where it should be. I think it just got high from the meds they gave me to stop the contractions. Nevertheless, I will go and let the professionals do what they do. I'd rather be safe than sorry. And, hey, at least I'll be quite familiar with the process for when it's really time.
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