Annika's birth story

I still haven't totally wrapped my head around Annika's birth. It was so very different from Callum's birth, and like much of the rest of the pregnancy I felt a bit removed from it for awhile so my memories of the early part of it aren't as acute, or something. It was certainly much shorter and less intense, or differently intense, than Callum's. And it was great. I mean, awesome. I am THRILLED with how it went. But trying to piece it all together after the fact is proving to be a bit challenging. Also, it started so slowly and gradually that I couldn't even tell you how long it all took. I guess I would say six to eight hours of real contractions, and about three or four hours of seriously painful labor.

So, let's see. The night of Thursday, October 31 to Friday, November 1, I woke up a few times with some mild PMS-like cramping, just like I had before my labor started with Callum. As with Callum, I vaguely wondered if the cramps were the start of something. But my midwife had warned me that false labor was much more common with second babies, and I'd had a lot more Braxton Hicks and painful but useless contractions in the last weeks of my pregnancy with Annika, so I just dismissed it and assumed it was my uterus tuning up for the real thing.

Also, I was being stubborn about the whole thing--I was sure that I was going to go late again, or at least to my due date, and it was still two days before my due date. And also, I thought my water would probably break to start my labor again. So I didn't think a whole lot about the cramps. Until I got up to use the bathroom that morning and saw that I was having bloody show. I never had that with Callum. Then I started thinking maybe something was actually starting. But I Googled it and everything said that bloody show COULD be a sign that labor would start soon, or it might still be days or even weeks. I didn't really think it would be weeks, but I thought it was realistic that it would still be days.

So I went downstairs to my office and did a full day of work as usual. The cramps got worse--they were definitely contractions, and they were slightly painful--I had to breathe through them a little bit. They were super irregular, though. Sometimes they'd be every 10 minutes and then I'd go 45 minutes without any. I got my work done. I whined to Susie and Liz on gchat about how the false labor was so annoying and I wished the contractions would either go away or turn into something real. The contractions continued, and so did the bloody show, all morning and afternoon. The pain increased slightly, but they remained completely irregular. When I finished work I decided I should take a nap, in case it did turn into something and also because I felt kind of worn out from the day of non-labor weirdness.

I did nap, but the contractions were painful enough to wake me, so I napped in about 12-minute spurts, because of course they became regular when I lay down to sleep. After a couple hours, I went downstairs to eat dinner with Torsten, Callum, and my in-laws. When I got up, the contractions got stronger and more regular, but I was still able to more or less act normal during them--I had to stop eating and breathe through them, but I was able to do so silently, without letting on to my in-laws that they were happening. I was still convinced that it was false labor, especially because false labor is known for getting worse in the evenings.

After Callum and my in-laws went to bed, Torsten and I watched Friends in the living room while I hung out on my hands and knees and did exercises on my birthing ball to try to help the baby into a good position (the midwife had said that the baby was posterior at my 39-week appointment a few days prior and while I was fairly certain that she had moved back into optimal position since then, I wanted to be sure she stayed there). Around 10 p.m. the contractions got strong enough that I started grunting and moaning a bit during them. But they were still completely irregular. By this time I had given in enough to download an app to time them, and at that point they were varying anywhere from seven to 14 minutes apart.

Around 11:30 we went to bed and I tried to sleep, but the contractions were too painful. They were trending generally closer together, but there were still some outliers that were a solid 12 minutes apart. My water still hadn't broken, and it broke to start Callum's labor, so I didn't have much of a frame of reference for how to know when true labor was happening. In retrospect it seems so obvious, but at the time I was apparently dealing with a pretty intense dose of denial, because I still didn't really think I was going to have a baby any time soon. All I knew was that for a first baby you're supposed to call the midwife when the contractions have been under five minutes apart for an hour straight, and the hour resets if there's even one contraction that's further than five minutes apart. I was also remembering how slow my labor was with Callum, and how the contractions slowed when I changed positions and the midwife said that was a sign that it wasn't true labor. Changing positions did seem to affect the contractions, though it didn't stop them, so I convinced myself that this was just really painful false labor and nothing was really happening.

Around 12:30 a.m. the contractions got seriously painful--I had to get up and move all around and was moaning and sort of keening through them, and trying to escape them. From 12:30 to 1:30 they were all between 5 and 7 minutes apart, and while they weren't getting closer, there weren't any far-apart outliers, so I started thinking that maybe I should call the midwife. At that point I was still thinking that I would just call her to chat about how things were going, and get a better idea for at what point she would really consider me in labor and want me to come in. But of course right when I said to Torsten at 1:30 that I should probably call the midwife, the contractions got further apart again--the next one wasn't for 12 minutes, and the one after that was nine, and I went back to thinking that it was false labor.

At 2:30 a.m. they got closer together again, though still not consistently so, and they were very painful. At that point Torsten knocked some sense into me and made me call the midwife. I called her at 2:38 a.m. according to my phone history, and had a contraction while talking to her, and after she heard me have the contraction she said, "I think you should probably come in, don't you?" I continued to hedge and pointed out to her that the contractions were irregular, though strong, and I really wasn't sure, and she told me that if it were a first baby she'd tell me to stay home, but since it was a second baby and given my history (the active part of my labor with Callum, from 4 cm to delivery, was very fast, about five hours, so the midwives thought I was probably going to go pretty fast with the second baby) she thought we should start gathering things together and think about heading in to the hospital. She said it wasn't a big rush, but she thought we should start making our way toward coming in.

After I hung up it was a good eight minutes between contractions so I went back to my weird place of denial (it is amazing to think, in retrospect, that I was only two hours away from delivering at that point) and thought that if we went in, we would probably get sent home again. I decided to walk around a bit instead of lying in bed to see if that would help, recalling that that's what they have you do at the hospital if you get there and aren't dilated enough to be admitted. So I started pacing the room and amazingly--it helped. The contractions started getting truly close together, like five minutes or less, and extremely painful. Like, to the point where Torsten became alarmed that we weren't actually going to make it to the hospital in time and started madly gathering the last things for our hospital bag. At 3:30 we decided that they were close enough, and strong enough, and consistent enough, that we should go to the hospital. This was a huge mental hurdle for me because it involved waking Torsten's parents in the middle of the night to tell them, and I still felt like it was probably all meaningless and insisted that Torsten warn them that while we were going to the hospital, there was no guarantee that the baby was coming and that we might be home again in an hour with no baby.

Also at this point I was feeling a strong pressure low during each contraction, not an urge to push but a feeling like I needed to poop. When I mentioned this to the midwife she told me it meant the baby was low. Since second babies don't typically engage in the pelvis until labor has started, and this one had been quite high at my last prenatal appointment, this should have been a clue to me that the labor was for real, but I didn't think much of it at the time.

Torsten and I threw everything together and got in the car shortly before 4 a.m. At that point the contractions were coming every two to three minutes and were horrifically painful. However, they didn't feel like the contractions I had with Callum, which felt more like I was being crushed between boulders. These didn't feel like that at all. I remember thinking that they felt triangular; they started at a distinct point very low down at the base of my uterus and radiated up and out across my belly. I did feel them a bit in my back, but not the way I did with Callum, and while they were incredibly painful, the sensations were just different somehow--more like pressure and downward squeezing rather than the waves and crushing I felt with Callum. I almost want to say that the contractions felt more vertical with Annika and horizontal with Callum, even though that probably doesn't make sense. Either way, I don't know if the differences were because I had a small amount of Pitocin with Callum or if he was in a different position or it was just a different labor, but I kept thinking that since it didn't feel the way it had with him, I couldn't be that far along.

I had a contraction right after getting in the car but then didn't have another for over five minutes, which further convinced me that I wasn't really in labor, because a hallmark of false labor is that the excitement and adrenaline of leaving for the hospital actually stops the contractions. However, after that five-minute gap, they started coming every two minutes again, and I was moaning and thrashing through them, trying to get away and unable to change positions to try to make it better since I was buckled into the car. Luckily it was 4 a.m. and the highway was empty, so it was a quick, mostly silent drive, about 15 minutes, to get there.

Again as I write this it seems so amazing that I didn't understand that I was about to have a baby, but I truly didn't. We donated our umbilical cord blood and had brought the kit to do so, but I made Torsten leave it in the car because I really didn't think we would need it for a long time, if at all that night. The walk from the parking lot to the hospital entrance took forever because I kept stopping to contract, gripping Torsten's hands and squeezing as hard as I could during each one. They were only 1-2 minutes apart at that point and Torsten kept saying he was sure it was real and it seemed like I was about to have a baby, and I would respond that I really didn't think so and we were probably going to get sent home.

In retrospect, I think part of the reason my denial was so heavy was that I was worried that I was overreacting, or somehow exaggerating what was happening. With Callum, I was in early labor for a long time and I had nothing to compare it to, no frame of reference, and it hurt and I thought it must be the real thing--and then it turned out that I wasn't even at 4 yet, and had to actually take an Ambien so I could stop using up too much energy in early labor, and I did sort of end up feeling like I had sounded a false alarm and that I couldn't handle early labor, or something? It was weird and I realize that that impression is fully in my own head, as nobody else ever said or hinted anything like that, but if I had gone to the hospital at the point I did in my labor with Callum and my water hadn't already broken, I definitely would have been sent home. This time I was very aware of that, and I think vaguely worried that I was doing the same thing again, somehow playing it up and making it sound worse than it was. This was also a big part of the reason why I was hoping my labor would start with my water breaking again, so I wouldn't have to worry about sounding a false alarm.

We got up to triage at about 4:15 a.m., and the midwife checked me and I was dilated to 7 cm. I couldn't believe it. It was so much work and so many hours and hours of awful, nonstop contractions with Callum before I got to that point--I couldn't believe that I had gotten there so quickly this time, and without understanding that that was what was happening. I will say that despite my heavy denial throughout my entire early labor, and even though I was amazed at how dilated I was, I wasn't exactly shocked to be declared officially in labor--I think on some level I knew that it was real and was just afraid to think it in case I was wrong.

At that point I was contracting every minute or two and I started to feel like I couldn't do it anymore. I was crushing Torsten's hands and pulling and squeezing during every contraction. I felt the need to get down, like bend my knees and get low, during the contractions. It was very different from Callum's labor--that time I wanted to move and sway and walk, and used the birthing ball a ton, and this time I just wanted to brace myself and squeeze and curl inward during the contractions. I did have the presence of mind to recall what we learned during our Bradley class, and what happened during my labor with Callum, which is that when you get to the point of feeling like you actually can't do it anymore, you're almost done--and I said that to the triage nurse, asked her if it was true that when you think you can't do it anymore that it means it's almost over, and she said yes, and I did believe her, and started thinking that maybe I would have a baby soon.

They brought me upstairs at that point to the L&D floor and officially admitted me at 4:35 a.m. At that point I sent Torsten to go back to the car to get the cord blood donation kit and a couple other things we had left behind. I was contracting basically constantly and Torsten asked the midwife if he had time to go to the car and she hesitated and then said yes, but that he should run. So he dashed out of the room and then I asked the midwife and the nurse if they thought we still had time for a water birth. Right after I asked that question I had a contraction that compelled me to bear down and kind of push, which should have been all the answer I needed, but I still looked hopefully at the midwife, who was like, "Well, we can try to set up the tub, but... I'm thinking it's not going to be necessary..." and I agreed that we could skip it. (And with that, let go of the idea of ever having a water birth, since I wasn't able to have one with Callum either and we are dooooone having kids now.)

With the next contraction I for-real felt the need to push and just then Torsten came racing back in the room with the cord blood kit and the midwife and nurse and I were all like, "Perfect timing!" I was standing up at that point and just followed my instincts, which led me into the same position in which I delivered Callum--squatting on the floor holding onto the side of the bed. The contractions were horrifically painful and with the next one I bore down and my water broke with a burst and went everywhere and I said, "Oh, my water, my water." Then I told the midwife that I felt like I needed to poop and she said "that's the baby" and I said "are you sure?" and she said yes and then I contracted again and pushed and felt the baby's head crowning. At that point the contractions were basically constant and I pushed as hard as I could and the midwife told me to slow down, slow down, and I forced myself to take a break from pushing, which was extremely difficult because when the baby is in the birth canal, all you want is to get her out and have the sensations and the pressure end, and I thought I heard the midwife tell me to try to stand up (I'm still not totally sure if she did actually tell me that) and I did kind of stand up and lean over the bed in a position similar to being on all fours and I asked, "Is this OK?" and the midwife assured me that it was but then with the next contraction I squatted down again and pushed and pushed and I felt her head come out and the midwife feeling around to make sure the cord wasn't around her neck (it wasn't) and she told me to slow down again and I forced myself to take another break and then I had to push more so I did and I felt her shoulders come out and the same tiny tornado slithering feeling I felt when Callum was born only this time I was familiar with that feeling so I knew it was the baby being born and then she was out and the midwife had caught her. The midwife and nurse were behind me and they immediately handed her to me so the cord wrapped around my leg and I held her and looked down at her and we all waited for her to cry and after a few seconds she did cry and it was such an amazing thing and we all laughed with relief. She was born the day before her due date, at 4:53 a.m., 18 minutes after I was admitted. I asked the midwife how long I pushed for and she said one minute, but I think it must have been more like two or maybe three.

She was so beautiful and unlike Callum, she came out with no trauma or difficulty (she had an 8 and then a 9 on her Apgar) and pinked up right away and so nobody took her away from me. After they handed her to me I didn't give her back for almost two hours. The nurse helped me get the cord unwrapped from my leg and I got in the bed and delivered the placenta with no problem, holding the baby the whole time, and nursed her right away and she latched on beautifully and nursed for a solid half hour on each side. She was very noisy, with lots of grunting and squeaking.

I held her while the midwife checked me for tearing and it turned out I did tear, but less than last time--just one tear, and first degree instead of second. The stitching up took forever and was horribly painful, which I also recall from last time--apparently lidocaine doesn't work very well on me. So that sucked, but I held the baby the whole time and felt so relaxed and happy. I couldn't believe I'd had the baby, that she was there and perfect and healthy, and that I'd had such a fast and relatively easy birth, and that I never had to give birth again, that I was done and it was over, truly. Torsten kept commenting on how peaceful I was, and how you would never know I had just given birth because I was so happy and cheerful.

When the midwife finished stitching up my tears, she and the nurse left the room and it was just the three of us, Torsten and me and Annika, and I held her and she nursed and we laughed and talked and just felt incredibly calm and happy. Then we FaceTimed both sets of parents at the same time on different phones and told them about the baby and showed her to them and laughed and joked. Eventually the nurse came back in and I relinquished the baby to be weighed and measured and bathed and generally checked out, and then Torsten held her for awhile and the nurse cleaned me up because it turned out that Annika had pooped while I was holding her (she had also pooped while being born, or just after, but thankfully not before so she hadn't aspirated any meconium), and I also had blood and amniotic fluid on my legs. I remember the whole thing as just being very soft and quiet and happy and calm. The birth was so fast that I still had energy left to absorb and enjoy what was happening, and enjoy my baby. And she's so amazing. I'm so happy with how the birth went, and that I was able to have two birth experiences that I feel really good about, and that resulted in two wonderful, perfect babies.

Also, it was hard to tell at first since she was all wet from the birth, but it's looking more and more like she has red hair.

 

On a second full-term pregnancy

Physically my two pregnancies have been very similar. The biggest difference has been the first trimester--with Callum, I didn't realize until 11 weeks that my lap-band was exacerbating my morning sickness, so I was miserably ill and puking for a solid month before I got the fluid removed from my band and instantly felt much better. This time around I knew what to watch for and had my band un-filled the second I started feeling ill, enabling me to skip essentially all morning sickness other than some mild and occasional nausea that never even led to vomiting. I still had the extreme exhaustion, but without the puking and constant seasick feeling, it was much more manageable.

Other than that, the pregnancies have been comparably straightforward and uncomplicated (knock on wood). I definitely feel like I'm ending this pregnancy with much less grace than I ended the last--last time I wrote a post on my due date about how much I had enjoyed being pregnant. I actively enjoyed the pregnancy, once I stopped being sick, right up until the very end, almost 41 weeks. This time I've found the end to be physically and emotionally more challenging. I'm still fine, really. I'm still happy to be pregnant. I'm still hoping to stay pregnant at least until my due date (on Sunday!). I'm still sleeping OK. I am having a lot more false labor build-up compared to the first time. With Callum I had zero labor signs until my water broke. Literally none. No Braxton Hicks, no contractions of any kind, no mucus plug, nothing. This time I've been having Braxton Hicks for months and they've become more annoying and sometimes downright painful in the last two weeks. My back has hurt more. I am out of breath more easily, even though I'm working out more this pregnancy than I did during the last one. I feel generally just sort of giant and unwieldy.

But still, physically I'm mostly fine. I think the biggest difference for me between the two is emotional. Obviously the demands on me in my day-to-day life are much greater this time around when there is a toddler to deal with on top of work and so forth. And I find myself pushing more and more of the child-wrangling off on Torsten, not so much because I'm physically incapable of doing it as because I'm just mentally wrung out and can't work up the emotional energy to do certain things. I spent a lot more time lying on the couch last time, and that was sort of peaceful and glorious.

The other thing about having all that time to focus on the first pregnancy is that I was extremely in touch with the actual pregnancy. Very focused on what was happening in there, how my body was changing, what was going on. Very interested in learning about weekly fetal development and what to expect from every moment. Very connected with all the kicks and movements. But at the same time I felt less connected to the idea of an actual baby coming. Of course I knew that there was one but it felt so theoretical, I was so lacking in a frame of reference for it, that I couldn't really conceptualize what it would be like.

This time it's the opposite. This time I get distracted and forget that I'm pregnant half the time. I had a moment a couple months ago where I caught sight of myself in the mirror and had a moment of panic where I was like, "HOW on earth did I get so BIG and ROUND? Without even NOTICING? How am I ever going to lose all this weight?" and then I realized, duh, I hadn't just suddenly gained a ton of weight inexplicably, I WAS PREGNANT. I had legitimately forgotten. And sometimes the baby will kick and I'll be like, "Wait, what was that?... oh." And sometimes I'll think that she's not very active and wonder if I should be concerned, only to start paying attention and realize that she IS being active and I'm just not noticing because I haven't really been paying attention. With the first pregnancy I really liked all the attention and compliments that I got, and this time I barely notice them, and half the time if someone says something to me about my pregnancy it takes me a second to even realize what they're talking about.

But the flip side is that while the baby still feels very theoretical, I also feel much more connected to the idea of her already. I can't imagine what she will be like and I have some trouble grasping that I really will love her as much as I love Callum, but I do know that I will--and I know now what it's like to have a baby, and that I LIKE having a baby, and that I will feel so strongly and overwhelmingly in love with the baby--so it's much easier for me to envision what that part will be like.

I chatted with a few of my friends who have two kids about this and we all agreed--the second pregnancy has much less of a focus on the actual pregnancy and much more of a focus on the fact that the pregnancy is leading toward a baby at the end. It's kind of a beautiful thing, actually. That zeroed in focus on the pregnancy the first time around was fine, but I don't miss it.

Also, something about this second pregnancy feels very final, like we've come full circle or something. Some of that is due to the fact that we know we only want two kids, so I know this is my last time. But I remember last time feeling like if we were to decide to stick with just one kid and I'd never get to be pregnant again, I'd feel sad and wistful about it. This time I don't feel that way. I'm so glad I'm pregnant. I'm so excited to be having two kids. I'm so fortunate that both of my pregnancies have been easy and uncomplicated. But I don't feel the need to ever experience another pregnancy. I feel like after this, I will be ready to be done.

Now I just hope that the feeling of being done with pregnancy extends to a feeling of being done with babies, after this one.

Electricity; Itchy; Busy

The night before last Torsten and I were about to go to sleep and I went to plug in my phone as usual. My phone charger is plugged into a power strip that was sitting on my nightstand, into which were also plugged my clock, bedside lamp, and Kindle charger. The phone charger cord was tangled, so I reached over and touched the power strip as I tried to untangle it. I pulled gently on the cord, which in turn pulled slightly on the power strip--and suddenly there was a huge POP!, a giant flash of light, and then the whole room went dark.

Turns out--as we figured out once we got the lights back on--that the power strip had some sort of, I don't know what to call it, surge? Blowout? Explosion? Whatever it was, it happened in connection with my bedside lamp, and it knocked out the breaker for both outlets on our bedroom wall, which was why the lights went out. Also, after it happened, we smelled burning, which was quickly explained when we noticed this:

Yep. That's my power strip. And the cord to my lamp. And also my nightstand itself, CHARRED, where the power strip had been sitting. COOL.

I didn't get shocked, luckily. I felt nothing even though I had my hand right on it when it happened. Which is good because I did some Googling about electric shocks in pregnancy after it happened and it seems like they are not so good. I mean, a minor shock is fine. But if you get a major high-voltage shock and the current runs through your uterus... well. The literature appears to indicate that fetal outcomes in such a case are not so good. I mean, I have no idea if this would have qualified. It was still just regular wall voltage, not like a subway rail or an electric fence. But it was quite the fiery end to the power strip. So, I'm glad to remain ignorant on whether it would have been a strong enough shock to harm Penguin, is what I'm saying. And also, we will be replacing all the power strips in our house with the grounded, protected kind--which I hadn't even realized we didn't already have.

* * *

I went to the dermatologist yesterday for a standard mole check (all fine) and to point out all my itchy spots and ask if there was anything he could do about them. Because I itch. A lot. Everywhere, but primarily my arms and legs. I have random rough red scaly patches and rashes scattered across my arms, legs, and belly. It's pretty much as pleasant and attractive as you might imagine. Some of it pre-dates the pregnancy, but most of it appeared afterward, and even the ones that were already there have gotten worse since I got pregnant. The dermatologist basically said that pregnancy triggers eczema and general angry skin in some women. This did not happen to me with Callum, but apparently each pregnancy is different? Or some such nonsense? Anyway, he sent me home with two prescriptions, for category B and C creams, to apply in different scenarios. At least it's not PUPPP. And also, this pregnancy has been remarkably easy in every other respect, so in the grand scheme of things this is a pretty minor issue. Just... yuck. And also, itchy.

* * *

I'm in my last graduate class. I'll be done with school in less than a month. The class is biology and it is turning out to be remarkably interesting so far. I'm pleased. I'm also pleased that in just a few weeks I'll have my life back. I'm imagining what I'll do with all that glorious free time. Then I remember that I'll have free time for about two months, until this baby shows up. So. That may put a damper on my plans to lie around and do nothing forever and ever, amen. However, at least it allows enough time to get ready. Callum is fully in his new bedroom, and during my last school break my mom and I started cleaning out the nursery closet and getting it organized for Penguin, but we didn't finish before class started again so now the nursery is a giant mess and I have to just keep the door closed so I don't have heart palpitations every time I see it. But in a few weeks! I can go through all the stuff! And toss things out and put things away and wash baby gear and move Callum's piglet print and C is for Car print to his new room and replace them with the Penguin print and an alphabet print for the new baby's name. And also maybe get Callum's new room done. Right now it's just a mattress and a dresser. I need to get bookshelves, which may involve a DIY painting project, and then I can pull it all together. But right now I'm ignoring all of that in favor of plowing through the next 3.5 weeks of school. And then never going back to school again, ever in my life, please and thank you. Someone smack me if I ever so much as mention the words "MPH" in the future, OK?

Wheeeeee OMG

A girl! We're having a girl. I... cannot believe it. OMG. A girl. A GIRL! Penguin is a girl.

The ultrasound was this morning and it went great. Penguin was extremely squirmy, but the tech still described her (HER!) as cooperative, and I think that she got all the shots she needed. Everything looked wonderful, at least as far as the tech said (a couple times with Callum techs said everything looked great and then we got the ultrasound reports and discovered that there was a minor concern... both times it turned out to be nothing) and we know there's nothing major wrong because if there is the doctor comes in to tell you on the spot. We saw everything... the brain, the heart, the spine, the kidneys, all looking lovely. We saw fingers and toes and lips. We saw kicking and arm waving and neck stretching and bouncing and flipping. (And I felt it, too!) Penguin is measuring a couple days ahead and is estimated to be in the 53rd percentile for weight. So basically, perfect.

And we saw girl parts. Or, more precisely, we saw a lack of boy parts, and those telltale three lines. The tech said that she never absolutely 100% promises that someone is having a girl, but that this was as girly as she's ever seen, and we got a nice clear shot with the legs well parted, so... it's a girl. (Though when we go in for the 32-week growth scan that I'm indicated for due to my lap-band, I'm sure I'll be relieved to receive confirmation on the sex.)

She went so far as to actually type GIRL onto the printout she gave us, and gave us permission to start buying purple clothing. Is this something that other people with girls have experienced? With Callum the tech (a different one) said "it's a little boy" whereas this tech wasn't willing to be quite so definitive... but she said it wasn't because it was an unclear shot or anything, it was just because she doesn't ever like to make guarantees. But also, once you see boy parts, you can be pretty sure that it's a boy, whereas a lack of parts is kind of like proving a negative... there is a theoretical possibility that they were there and just... hidden? But in the real world, no. No chance. It's a girl.

A girl! I am THRILLED. It's what I would have chosen and I am SO DELIGHTED. Also still having a bit of trouble wrapping my head around the whole idea. I guess I've just gotten used to thinking of all babies as boy babies. Especially MINE, because clearly, a sample of one means that I have boy babies. Except not, because now I'm having a girl! Maybe if I say it enough times it will start to feel real. A GIRL.

16-week belly

Well, as promised, belly shots. First, here I am yesterday, at 16 weeks:

And here I am at seven weeks, same pregnancy:

 

And for comparison, here I am at 16 weeks with Callum:

 

So... yeah. The difference is noticeable, yes? I dug through my Callum photos and tried to figure out which one most closely resembles what I look like now. I decided it's this 22-week photo, but I generally seem to be carrying differently this time... maybe a little higher and rounder? Who knows, but there you go. 16 weeks pregnant and looking... well, pregnant. Enough that I got my first pregnancy comment from a stranger this weekend! Last time that didn't happen until at least 22 weeks. I will take it!

Pregnancy catch-up

You guys were all so sweet with the congratulations yesterday. It's so interesting how much social media has changed since my last pregnancy--then, I was on Twitter but it wasn't as big as it is now, and the blog was the main communication portal. This time the blog was more like the vehicle to say more than I could ever fit into 140 characters, but most of the communication about it happened on Twitter.

Anyway, sorry for pulling the traditional stop-blogging-in-the-first-trimester (though in my defense, I did actually start blogging less frequently before I got pregnant... wait, that's not really a defense) on you, and honestly, I don't think I'm going to suddenly start blogging every day or anything, but now that I can talk about everything that's going on in my life, I'm hoping to post at least a little more often.

So! Pregnancy! Let's do a brief catch-up on the last 15 weeks. My pregnancy with Callum was super easy after I got over the month of miserable morning sickness, and so far (knock wood), this one has been very similar, except even easier because I avoided the morning sickness. With Callum, after a month of feeling seasick nonstop and throwing up multiple times a day, I realized that my lap-band was making things worse, and had it emptied, which pretty much fixed the morning sickness instantly. So, this time as soon as I started feeling sick around 7 weeks, I had my band emptied and... bam. All better. It was amazing. (Also, I'm slightly annoyed that I suffered so badly with Callum for a whole month for no reason, but whatever.)

So! First trimester extreme fatigue, smell aversion, bloating, and so forth, but at least I wasn't puking! Did you know that everything is SO MUCH BETTER when you aren't puking? Because it is! And now that I'm solidly in the second trimester, the fatigue has been starting to lift (thank goodness, because it turns out when you have a toddler it's much harder to indulge in a two-hour daily nap the way I did the first time) and I've been feeling mostly pretty good. And am really looking forward to this next part.

I've also been much less anxious this time around. Obviously I still have my moments of wondering if everything is OK in there (currently in one of those as I'm nearing a month since my last visit and would like to just get a quick listen to that heartbeat again to make sure all is well) but generally I've been able to trust that things are probably fine, and not worry about it constantly, so that's been pleasant.

Also, don't laugh at me, but I swear (I SWEAR) that I've been feeling movement since 10 weeks. That's insane, right? With Callum I felt movement starting at 15.5 weeks, which seemed surprisingly early for a first baby, especially since I had an anterior placenta and am not a skinny person, so I was dubious if it was really movement for a long time, but it just got stronger and more frequent until there was no longer any doubting. And the same thing seems to be happening this time (and also at 12 weeks they told me my placenta is "developing posteriorly" this time), except it started much earlier. At 10 weeks I felt some distinct fluttering, and in the weeks since it's only gotten stronger and more frequent. At this point I'd say I'm 95% sure that it's baby movement, but not yet 100% convinced.

Also, we do plan to find out what it is, if the baby cooperates, at our ultrasound next month. I'm kind of torn on what I would prefer. A girl would be great, of course, but I also love the idea of brothers, so really, we can't go wrong. Torsten, on the other hand, has a slight (he claims) preference for another boy. So we will see. Like last time, I have no real gut feelings or guesses at all. In fact, trying to visualize this baby as a boy or a girl feels weird and strange to me. But maybe that's some sort of self-defense mechanism because with Callum I assumed it was a girl (not because of any maternal instinct or anything but because I grew up with a sister and it seemed like everyone in my family had girls, so I just figured that's what we would have). And then when the tech told us that it was a boy I felt really disconnected for a minute, like she was talking about someone else's baby, because I'd been thinking, to an extent I wasn't aware of, that it was a girl. So! This time I'm apparently trying to avoid that, even though it was no big deal last time because it took me literally one minute to go from, "Wait, THIS baby, MY baby?" to "OMG A BOY THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER."

Last thing... Callum. At 28 months I don't think he's quite ready to grasp the concept of a baby growing in my belly who will eventually come home to live with us (though he could understand the more concrete aspects of that idea), and he's certainly not ready to grasp the idea that it will be another five or six months before this happens, so we haven't tried to explain it to him in detail. But we have bought some books about new babies and becoming a big brother to try to familiarize him with the general concept, and we do talk about how there's a baby in my belly and ask him if he wants to be a big brother (he almost always says yes, but he has no idea what he's agreeing to), and we told daycare about it so that they can help him adjust to the idea too, and then when it gets a bit closer and he's a bit older we'll hopefully sort of move naturally toward telling him about it in more detail. But mostly I'm just really excited for him to be an older brother. He is incredibly patient and laid-back (gauging with a toddler yardstick here, of course), and he really likes babies, and I can just see how he'll be such a beautiful big brother, which isn't to say that I don't expect the transition period to be challenging for him, but just that in the long term I'm really hopeful that this will turn out to be a great sibling relationship. And if you guys have any suggestions about how to make the sibling adjustment period easier, or books you liked, or anything like that, I'd love to hear them (he'll be about 2.75 years old when his sibling arrives).

So, there's a brain dump of what's been going on in my head during the early part of this pregnancy. Mostly we're just really excited. A BABY! I still can't quite believe that we get to do this all again.

Postpartum modesty

You know, before I gave birth everyone told me that when you're in labor you lose all modesty. That made sense to me, and I was expecting it. And it definitely happened.

But what I didn't realize is that after the labor, your modesty doesn't come back, exactly.

I mean, it's back now, for the most part. I'm not about to whip off my shirt entirely when I nurse in public. I don't have any photos of my placenta or anything, and if I did I certainly wouldn't be showing them in public. I wouldn't answer the door naked or anything like that.

But we were in the hospital for two days after Callum was born, and during that time, I did not get dressed.

Maybe this is just me? I honestly don't know because I haven't heard anyone else discuss this. But when I was in the hospital with Callum I pretty much spent the whole time just wearing those awesome mesh panties they give you. I also had a hospital gown, which I wore from time to time, for photos, and certainly whenever I had to leave my room. But we were having nursing issues, and also focused on bonding, and one of the ways to address both of those is skin on skin time, and you know what gets in the way of skin on skin time? A hospital gown.

So for the vast majority of those two days, I was in the my hospital bed, sitting on a disposable protective sheet, wearing only mesh underwear, as people came in and out of the room.

Not visitors. I mean, if friends or family had come to visit us in the hospital, I would have gotten dressed, or at least put on my hospital gown. I didn't lose my modesty to THAT extent.

But I also didn't realize how many non-visitor people would come into the room during those two days. There were the nurses, of course. There were also the other people who would come in regularly to check my vital signs or Callum's. (These were checked at separate times by separate people. I don't know if they were nurses or medical assistants or residents or what. But since the baby and I did not get checked at the same time, it felt like they were there a lot.)

Then there was the pediatric resident who came in a couple times to get Callum for his routine exams. And the pediatrician who came in several times to discuss his jaundice treatment. And the med student who came in offering a free massage. And the different lactation consultants who came in to help us at several different points. And the volunteer who came to do Callum's hearing test. And the room service people who brought us our meals. And the housekeeping staff who cleaned the room. And the maintenance guy who fixed our broken clock. And so on and so forth.

Other than the maintenance guy (for whom I did cover up... because he knocked!), all of these people saw me in my mesh-undied glory. And none of them blinked an eye about it. And what can I say? If they had blinked an eye, I would have blamed them... because they didn't knock before they came in the room. So I can only assume that they were expecting to see me in a state of near-undress.

Of course nothing was quite as awesome as the nurses who would stroll into the room and casually pull aside the mesh undies to check on my bleeding level. Is this normal? Again, I don't know, because I haven't heard anyone discuss this situation in much detail. Maybe they did it more often in my case because I passed a very large blood clot a few hours after delivery and they wanted to make sure I wasn't having bleeding issues after that. Or maybe it's standard for all postpartum women. But either way, I definitely got used to having people I'd never seen before, or only seen once or twice, look in my underwear. And then push really hard on my uterus for good measure, to make sure it was tight and small the way it was supposed to be. (It always was. But that didn't stop them from checking again the next time.)

And the thing is... writing this is making me cringe a little bit. Like maybe I really am the only one who had this experience? Maybe all the nurses were sitting at the nurses' station being like, "Oh my god have you seen the woman in room 506? The naked one? What is she thinking?" and playing rock, paper, scissors on who had to come check on me and who got to go take care of all the other post-partum women who were fully dressed and beautifully made up.

I'm guessing not, somehow (and when I mentioned this to one friend from our Bradley class she told me that she also hung out in her room in just the mesh undies til she was discharged, so at least I know I'm not TOTALLY alone), but my point is that while in retrospect this makes me cringe? At the time, it didn't. It just felt normal. Everyone acted like it was normal, I got used to people poking around in my underwear, it was fine. I guess I took my cue from the nurses, and they very much acted like it was normal.

Also, you know, I HAD just pushed a baby out while squatting on the floor and grunting in front of a midwife, a nurse, and a med student while wearing only a sports bra. Then several other nurses had shown up and cleaned the blood off the floor and watched me have a very private area stitched back together. Then ANOTHER nurse had shown me how to use the peri bottle to avoid wanting to die every time I had to pee. So, you know, before I even got to the recovery room there were already quite a few people who had seen me quite intimately, and I guess that changes your standards a little bit.

So yeah. I'm glad to be home now, wearing clothes and not having people barge in on me naked all the time and grab my underwear to see what's going on down there.

I tend to get sick of people saying that nobody ever told them X or Y about pregnancy, because I feel like in general, and especially online, people really do talk about most pregnancy things, including the very un-glamorous stuff, and thanks to that openness, I didn't encounter many surprises in labor and delivery. But this one genuinely caught me off guard, I really had never heard people talk about this before, and therefore I'm writing about it even though it's making me cringe.

So please, please, please: tell me I'm not alone.

Callum's birth story

Depending on how you count it, my labor was either very long or very short. If you include pre-labor (the less intense contractions that got me to 4 cm), I was in labor for a total of 33.5 hours. But if you only count active labor (from 4 cm to delivery), it was only 5.5 hours.

It's weird because the time kind of blurs, and so does the memory of it all. My memory of what happened during his birth isn't chronological. Like, I know at one point I cried, but I can't remember when. And I know that I was at 4 cm, and then I was at 6.5 cm, and logically I know how much time passed between those two things, but in my memory it doesn't feel that way.

Anyway, let's start at the beginning. At around 8 a.m. on Sunday, January 23, I woke up and felt a pop low-down in my abdomen. It was in the vicinity of the baby, but I could tell it wasn't a baby kick. I thought to myself, "I wonder if my water just broke." Then I stood up and fluid gushed down my legs all over the floor. So that pretty much confirmed it.

I wasn't really in labor at that point--I had been vaguely crampy all night, and had woken up a few times wondering if something was on its way to getting started--but soon after, the contractions started. At first they just felt like period cramps, and were very irregular and mild. Over the course of the day they got progressively stronger and closer together. I spoke to my midwife, who said that she wanted me to check into the hospital 12 hours after my water had broken, but that we wouldn't even discuss induction until the next morning--she just wanted to keep an eye on things.

So, I labored at home for most of Sunday. I took a shower, Torsten and I went for a walk, I ate some lunch, and I spent most of the day on my yoga mat and birthing ball. We watched the Packers-Bears playoff game and timed my contractions. By around 4 p.m. they met the criteria for going to the hospital--less than four minutes apart, lasting at least a minute, and had been that way for an hour. I still wasn't sure that I was in active labor, per se, but since we had to go to the hospital in a few hours anyway, the midwife said we might as well just come in now.

When we got to the hospital, since my water was broken they did not do an internal exam to check how dilated I was. I was also able to skip triage and check directly into labor and delivery. My contractions had slowed down somewhat in both frequency and intensity ever since I'd gotten off the birthing ball and into the car, so we waited for them to pick back up. Torsten and I walked and walked around the hospital halls, and I spent a lot of time on the birthing ball. Both of those things caused the contractions to pick back up, but whenever I would stop doing that and just lie in bed, the contractions would slow down again. The midwife said this was not a good sign as far as labor progressing on its own--in true active labor, nothing would be able to stop the contractions. But the contractions that I was having were definitely quite painful--every time I had one, everything else would just kind of stop, and I would lean into Torsten and groan through it and try to breathe, and he would hold me and rub my lower back until it ended.

We continued like this for most of the evening and then the midwife suggested that I take a sleeping pill so that I could get some rest. She was concerned that I was going to use up all my energy in early labor and then the next day would come, I wouldn't have progressed much, and I would already be so exhausted that I wouldn't have the energy to get through active labor and delivery. So, we agreed, I took a sleeping pill, and I managed to get about five hours of sleep.

In the morning a different midwife was on duty and she came in to discuss the options with me. My contractions were still only about 6-8 minutes apart at that point and while they were painful, they weren't incredibly intense (especially in retrospect now that I can compare them to the much more intense contractions I felt later on). They still had not done a cervical check at this point and did not want to because of the infection risk with the broken water.

The midwife said that since it had been 24 hours since my water had broken, and I still wasn't in active labor, we needed to discuss options for augmenting the labor, such as Cytotec or Pitocin. I asked if I could have another hour to walk, spend more time on the birthing ball, and so on, and hope that those things would naturally kick my body into active labor. She said that was fine, and one way or another I would soon be on my way and then we could set up the birthing tub. However, before I started walking and all that again, she wanted to check on the baby with the external monitor.

When we put on the monitor, we discovered that the baby's heart rate was dropping during every contraction, and not coming up fast enough after they ended. The midwife wasn't overly concerned about this because between contractions his heart rate was nice and strong, with lots of accelerations and variation, which is what they look for. But they weren't happy about how low it was dipping during the contractions or how long it was taking to speed back up afterward.

They decided to keep him on the monitor for a bit longer to see if anything changed. But we had a lot of trouble with the external monitor--I needed to change positions during each contraction, and whenever I moved we would lose his heartbeat, and they would struggle to find it again. It was also hard to time his heart rate against my contractions to figure out exactly how long it was staying low after the contractions ended.

After awhile of the extended external monitoring and ensuing confusion, the midwife said that we needed a new plan of action. Since his heart rate was not improving, she really wanted to get the labor started--and Cytotec was not an option since once it's taken, it can't be controlled, and she didn't want to risk having it cause strong contractions that put the baby into distress and couldn't be stopped. So, she recommended Pitocin, since that can be turned on and off instantaneously. And with the Pitocin, she wanted to use an internal monitor (the kind that screws into the baby's scalp) so that we could have a better, more consistent understanding of what the baby's heart rate was doing during and after each contraction.

I think this is where I cried--I was terrified. (But I'm not sure... because I have a vague memory that the crying was at nighttime, and this was in the morning.) I'd heard all sorts of terrible things about Pitocin and the really strong contractions that it causes. The internal monitor meant that not only would I not be able to do the water birth that I had planned (and that was my main plan for pain management), but that my range of motion in general would be severely limited for the rest of the birth. I was also scared that the baby would respond poorly to the Pitocin, which would have left a c-section as the only option.

Luckily, everyone who was there supporting me was so great. I love love love my midwives--and I loved that I was able to know without a doubt that her recommendation for next steps was the right choice. I loved that I could absolutely trust her opinion and that I knew she was doing what she felt was best for the baby and for me. And Torsten was wonderful--not just in supporting me and making me feel better about the change in plans, but in general throughout the entire birth. Our nurse was also awesome... incredibly supportive and encouraging, and stayed with us during the entire birth.

They hooked up the internal monitor late in the morning, at maybe around 11? And since they had to go internal to do it, they were able to finally do a cervical check, and they found that I was dilated to 4 cm and 90% effaced. The internal monitor was a great idea in theory--not only did it provide continuous monitoring of the baby's heart rate, but it also monitored my contractions, so it was able to tell us exactly how the contractions were affecting his heart rate.

However, in practice they had major issues with the internal monitor. Something about the connection to the machine wasn't working right, so it kept losing his heart rate for many-second periods of time. They tried everything to fix it, including reconnecting it to his scalp (so he came out with two little cuts on his scalp instead of one), but they weren't able to solve the issue. It worked well enough, however, for us to see that while his heart rate was still dropping during contractions, it wasn't yet far enough to be an issue--just something to keep an eye on. And it monitored the contractions perfectly, so that helped us see the timing of his heart rate against the contractions.

At noon on Monday, when I was at 4 cm, they hooked up the IV and started the Pitocin. They put it on the very lowest dose--1 milliunit per hour (apparently it can go as high as 20)--and kept a careful eye on the baby's heart rate. At first he didn't seem to be responding very well to the Pitocin contractions, so they briefly turned it off, but since Pitocin was the only option left other than a c-section, they decided to turn it back on for a little while longer to see how he would handle it.

And, miraculously, his heart rate actually started to get better, and not drop so much during the contractions. So, they cautiously turned the Pitocin dose up to 2, the baby's heart was still handling it fine, and it turned out that I didn't need any more than that--the small dose I was receiving was enough to kick my body into active labor. The contractions started coming closer together and they were much more intense.

At this point it wasn't possible to get comfortable, even between contractions--I would try to sit on the bed and then a contraction would start and I would HAVE to get off the bed, the contraction was compelling me to stand up, and I would yell, "Ball! Ball!" and Torsten would get the birthing ball and put it on the bed and I would lean on the birthing ball and sort of sway with the contraction and the nurse would remind me to breathe slowly, try to breathe the pain away, and Torsten would massage my lower back and tell me I was doing great and remind me that the contraction was almost over and I would feel better in a second. Sometimes the midwife or the nurse would try to rub my back but I shooed them off--the only person whose touch felt good was Torsten's.

Then the contraction would end and I would need to sit down, so Torsten would take the birthing ball back off the bed so I could sit, but it felt like as soon as I managed to sit down the next contraction was already coming and I would have to get up and do it all over again. Sometimes I would have a double contraction, like a double wave in the ocean where just when you think you've crested it and you're on your way out, there it comes rising up again, and those were especially excruciating because there was no recovery time between them.

After a couple hours the pressure low down was so intense that I started to feel like I might need to push, so the nurse called the midwife to check me and I was at 6.5 cm. This was apparently actually a good thing--they only expect you to dilate 1 cm every two hours--but to me it felt so daunting, like I'd only gotten 2.5 cm in all that time and it was going to be hours and hours before I got to 10, and it was already so intense and painful, and the pushing pressure was so much and how could it not be time to push? Because it really FELT like it was time to push.

At that point I moved into transition, which I guess took a couple more hours? But it actually felt like time moved very fast during that part. The contractions felt like they were coming nonstop, like even when they broke and I was between them, there was still so much pressure that I couldn't get a break. There was definitely some announcing that I couldn't do this anymore and that I was going to die. I reminded myself at this point that our Bradley instructor had taught us that when you get to the point where you think you can't do it anymore, you're actually very close to the end--but I was convinced that for me it would really be several more hours before I was ready to push, because I had only been at 6.5 cm during the previous check, and I was really not sure I was going to be able to make it.

I was also a little worried that the baby might be in the wrong position, because I was feeling the contractions not just in my belly but also in my lower back, and that can be a sign that the baby is facing the wrong way. The contractions were so strong in both the front and the back that it felt like my entire pelvis was being crushed between boulders during every contraction. I couldn't escape from the pain no matter which way I went. I couldn't imagine taking contractions at that level for another several hours, and then still having to push for possibly several hours after that.

But then I started REALLY feeling the urge to push. Like, I couldn't NOT push. With every contraction I was pushing and moaning and I couldn't stop it. The nurse called the midwife and she checked me and said that I was at 10, that there was just one tiny bit of cervix left that she was moving out of the way, and then I could push. Since I was on the bed for her to check me, she asked if I wanted to try pushing on the bed, and I said NO, absolutely NOT, that sounded like the worst possible idea I could imagine. So she said OK, get out of bed and just do whatever feels right, and she asked the nurse to get a squat bar but there was no time for that.

I squatted down on the floor and held onto the bed and just pushed and pushed. I could tell people were doing things behind me, putting a mat on the floor and moving monitors and my IV pole around, and Torsten was there rubbing my back and the nurse was coaching me on breathing, and then the midwife was behind me and the baby was crowning and I was pushing and pushing and the midwife told me to reach down and feel the baby's head and I did and it was soft and downy and she told me to just keep pushing, that I was doing great.

I could feel him in the birth canal and it was incredibly painful and all I wanted was to have him out, have the pressure end and the baby born, and the midwife was telling me I needed to keep pushing, I needed to get him out, she told me his head was out and all I needed to do was push his shoulders out and I would be done, and I held onto the bed and pushed as hard as I could and I felt the strangest sensation, almost like a tiny wet tornado, a huge flopping fish kind of feeling, and I couldn't tell if the baby was coming out or moving back up and the feeling went on and on and I pushed and pushed and then suddenly he was out and Torsten and the midwife sort of caught him together and handed him through between my legs to me and they had trouble getting him to my arms and I could hear the midwife say, "Short cord, short cord," and suddenly I was holding Callum in my arms. I had pushed for 10 minutes total.

He was tiny and dark and bloody and his head was soft and elongated from being pushed through the birth canal so fast and his nose was all mashed and he was grunting but he wasn't crying and the midwife and the nurse were trying to get him to cry and then another nurse was there also trying to get him to cry. And then he did cry, only for a second, and then the cord stopped pulsing and the midwife had Torsten cut it, and then they took Callum away from me because he was still struggling to breathe.

I got back in the bed and birthed the placenta, and then it turned out that I had two second-degree tears so they stitched me up while Torsten was with Callum across the room while they checked his oxygen saturation and tried to help him breathe. The pediatric nurse who was dealing with him really overreacted a bit--she gave him a 5 on his Apgar at one minute and a 7 at five minutes, and the midwife and the delivery nurse both told me later that those scores were way too low for his condition--and she said his oxygen saturation was 90 even though it was actually 94--and the midwife told me she wasn't concerned because even though he didn't pink up right away, his lips were pink from the start and that's a sign that he is just fine.

I could hear Torsten from across the room, constantly pestering the pediatric nurse to bring me the baby. It was like a broken record: "Can my wife hold the baby now? Can we please bring the baby to her?" and I'm sure he was pissing the nurse off but I felt such an overwhelming wave of love and gratitude to him for being so insistent and demanding, and eventually it worked and after a few minutes they brought him to me and I held him on my chest and nursed him and cuddled him, and it was perfect, and the few minutes that he'd been across the room from me didn't even matter.


He looked like the tiniest baby in the world to me, but everyone kept saying that he was huge, and guessing that he was over 9 pounds. I knew that he wasn't over 9 pounds--I knew that he would be 8 pounds something, and when they did take him away to weigh him he came in at 8 pounds 12 ounces. Everyone kept going on about how I did such a good job in labor, and they couldn't believe that I'd pushed such a big baby out in only 10 minutes.


After it was over I felt such a huge sense of relief that it was done. And I feel so, so happy with how it went. It wasn't exactly according to plan--I had hoped to avoid Pitocin and internal monitors, and I had wanted to do a water birth--but part of the plan was knowing that you can't plan for everything, and I feel really comfortable with the decisions that we made and the way everything turned out. And I'm really happy that I was able to have the natural birth that I wanted despite some of the unexpected snags along the way. And I still can't get over what an incredible coach Torsten was--how great and loving and supportive he was. During the labor he was all that I wanted, and he was everything that I needed. I know he was worried beforehand that he wouldn't know what to do, but he was perfect.


And Callum is perfect too. I know some people say that you forget about the pain after the labor is over--and for me that's definitely not true--but what is true is that it doesn't matter anymore. It was by far the most painful experience of my life, but now Callum is here and that is more important than any amount of pain. All that waiting and all that work--and now he's here, and we are a whole different type of family. And it is wonderful.

The waiting game

It's weird to go from wanting the baby to stay right where he is, please don't go anywhere, to suddenly getting to the point where you would actively like him to come out. I'm doing well with the whole patience thing, helped by the fact that I am still not uncomfortable physically. But I'm starting to really look forward to the part where we actually have a baby.

It's weird, how it changes. This entire pregnancy my goal has been for Piglet's birthday to be January 20-anything, and, well, today is January 21. We've hit our goal and so suddenly I've gone from assuming that I will not be in labor anytime soon to realizing that it could start at any point. Suddenly the idea that it could still be a week and a half before he's born makes me feel like a week and a half is a very long time.

And, once you've given yourself carte blanche to go into labor? You start noticing things like contractions, nausea, twinges. Things that have been going on during the entire pregnancy take on a whole new meaning once you're past your due date. So far, I've had no major labor signs, and the stuff that people say could or could not mean that labor will start soon? Well, for me that stuff has definitely fallen into the category of "not so much."

I am also THRILLED that I am past my due date. I've been wanting to go late, hoping to go late, wondering if I'd go late... and now I've gone late. This baby is officially overdue, as planned. And now it's all up to him when he's going to stop cooking and come on out.

(Plus, Torsten has an important business meeting this morning, and we've been wondering all week if he'd have to cancel it or not. Dear Piglet, thanks for letting your dad make it to this one. You are already showing yourself to be a very considerate little kid, and you aren't even here yet.)

This is a good exercise in patience for me. Sometimes I start thinking about what it will be like to finally meet this baby, hold him, see him, smell him, cuddle him, BE with him, and I feel overwhelmed with a surge of love and excitement and NOW NOW NOW I want this to happen NOW.

But for the most part I am doing well reminding myself that he will come when he's good and ready. There's no rush. I will NOT be pregnant forever, and in the grand scheme of things a few days more or less won't make a difference. So he can come when he wants.

And it seems that "when he wants" isn't "now." So just as a PSA, everyone can hold off on refreshing my Twitter stream and Facebook profile for at least another few hours. Just saying.

On my due date*

*Since people keep asking: Technically I hit 40 weeks yesterday. But my midwives have my due date listed as today. So let's just call it a 48-hour due date, shall we?

There seems to be a Friends episode to fit every occasion, right? And until I got pregnant, I would have thought that the one exception to this would be pregnancy. Because everyone knows that sitcoms absolutely fail at portraying a realistic pregnancy. And that's true! It totally is! Sitcom pregnancies are not realistic AT ALL.

For example, sitcom characters suddenly feel the baby kicking one day, yell out, "The baby just kicked for the first time!" and everyone gathers around and they can all feel it and it's magical and wonderful. Whereas in reality, at least for me, it was weeks of wait, was that a kick? Or a gas bubble? I think that was a kick. Oh god I haven't felt anything for days. Maybe that wasn't a kick last week after all. OK I'm almost positive that was a kick. OK now it's four weeks later, I'm sure these are kicks, Torsten put your hand here so you can feel it. Oh wait it stopped. OK try again. Damn, it stopped again. OK it's another four weeks later just PUT YOUR DAMN HAND ON MY BELLY AND LEAVE IT THERE UNTIL THE BABY KICKS I DON'T CARE IF IT TAKES ALL DAY.

And let's not even start on how every sitcom character's water breaks all of a sudden in a very inconvenient place, and then they rush off to the hospital and have a baby. I don't think I even need to bother describing how infrequently THAT particular scenario occurs.

The point is, I think you'll probably all be able to relate to the eye-rolling I've always done during the episode of Friends where Rachel gets to her due date and gives the little speech about how she's just loved being pregnant, and she's really going to miss it.

And I still roll my eyes, just a little, when I see that scene because again, I know how rare it is to feel that way by the time you're 40 weeks pregnant. Most women are wildly uncomfortable and impatient at that point and just want the baby OUT OUT OUT.

So, all of this is just a giant preamble, the point of which is: I will totally forgive you if you roll your eyes during the next part of this post. Because I know my experience is rare, and I'm incredibly lucky.

But I genuinely have loved being pregnant. Not every bit of it--morning sickness specifically comes to mind--and certainly there have been inconveniences and discomforts. And I'm looking forward to being able to sleep on my back again, and to not waking up five times per night to pee, and to being able to eat sashimi.

But I have had an easy, uncomplicated pregnancy, at least so far. I'm still sleeping fine. I don't feel impatient. My discomforts have been mild--and I've been so thrilled about being pregnant that for the most part (other than the few weeks early on when I felt seasick round the clock) I haven't really minded them. They were expected--in fact, I was expecting far worse--but what I wasn't expecting was how much I would like the good parts. Like how very, incredibly great the good parts would actually be.

I LOVE baby kicks. (Though I will say, I decidedly DO NOT love baby hiccups.) I love knowing that I'm growing a person. I love that everywhere I go, Piglet comes along for the ride. I love being asked about my pregnancy and talking about it. I love preparing for a baby and dreaming about a baby and knowing that soon there will actually BE a baby. And I feel such a bond with this baby. Every time he kicks I feel like we're having a private little communication. I love that I get the privilege of having him with me all the time.

I know that a future pregnancy of mine will probably not be like this, because no two pregnancies are alike, not to mention that I won't have all this time to sleep and relax and get ready, because there will be another child to take care of. And that's OK too. I'm just really grateful that I got to experience this first pregnancy the way that I did, that I got so lucky, that it's been such a positive experience for me.

Now let's hope that whenever Piglet decides to make his appearance, parenting a newborn will turn out to be similarly, surprisingly great.

39.5 weeks

I am really convinced that I'm going to go late with this baby. And apparently I've done a good job convincing others of that as well, because so far I've more or less avoided the scourge of being asked every 10 seconds if I'm in labor yet.

(Though I did take an Internet break this past weekend to avoid having NFL scores spoiled for me, since we TiVoed the playoff games, and came back to several messages wondering if my silence was due to being, you know, at the hospital in labor. But I can't complain, because I wonder the same thing about other pregnant women who are near their due dates when they disappear.)

Anyway, for the record: I'm still here. Still pregnant, still working. Still not uncomfortable. Still not noticing any major progress that would imply that labor is just around the corner. Still totally, completely, utterly fine with that.

(Though as pseudostoops and I discussed yesterday, if he came on or before his due date, his birth date would be a palindrome, and that would be pretty cool. But he's already missed the chance to have his birthday be 1-11-11, so I'm guessing a cool birth date isn't very high on his list of priorities right now.)

Anyway, yes. The kid is still inside me, I am still totally fine with that, and I am so so so incredibly grateful to be fine with it. I know that most women who are just days from their due date are miserable and desperate for the baby to just come out already. I do not feel that way. I am really not even uncomfortable at all. And feel so incredibly lucky to be able to say that.

But yes, I fully expect to be able to take a belly photo on my due date, with the baby still inside me. So if I disappear from Twitter again this weekend, don't worry: it's just because of football. We like to watch the games on a delay so we can fast forward through the commercials.

But to tide you over, here we are at 39 weeks, the baby and me. Lesson from all this: in any subsequent pregnancies, use a longer shirt for the belly photo series.

To find out the sex ahead of time

This started as a Twitter conversation among myself, Jonna, Nic, Marie Green, Jennie, and I'm sure quite a few others I'm not remembering, but you know what? Apparently some things require more than 140 characters to discuss. So let's talk about it here!

The main question is, did you or would you find out the sex of your baby before the birth?

As everyone here knows, we chose to find out at the 20-week ultrasound. Our feeling was that we would get that same moment of surprise, whether it happened then or 20 weeks later, and that it would be nice to know as soon as possible. I am not big on delayed gratification. I wanted to KNOW, and waiting for 20 extra weeks to find out when I could have known at any moment may have actually killed me.

Plus, for me, every little thing I can know about this little person before he's born helps me feel more bonded to him. Not that the fact that he is a boy means anything specific about what kind of person he will be, but just knowing that he IS a boy helps me envision him as a real little person, helps me connect with him in more concrete ways.

Also, I hated referring to the baby as "it" during the first half of pregnancy. I was SO GLAD when I could start saying "he" instead.

And, let's not even get started on how much easier it has been to get ready, buy clothes, and so forth knowing the sex of the baby.

All that said, I know that lots of people have very valid reasons for waiting to find out the sex, and I have absolutely no judgment about that whatsoever. This DEFINITELY falls into the category of a decision that parents have to make for themselves that has absolutely no bearing on anyone else.

BUT, I want to know, if you've had kids, did you find out in advance? Or if you think you will have kids, do you plan to find out in advance? And most importantly, WHY? What's the reasoning behind your decision? And, if you've made a decision about this in the past, do you think it was the right one, or do you wish you had done things differently?

That whole "just adopt" thing

Here is a pet peeve of mine: people who judge others for going through infertility treatment. And ESPECIALLY when those judgey people say or imply that those who experience challenges in getting or staying pregnant should "just adopt."

I almost feel ridiculous writing a blog post about this, because it seems SO OBVIOUS to me. And YET, from the stories that friends of mine who have struggled with infertility have told me, it is apparently NOT obvious to some people, AT ALL.

First of all, let's discuss adoption. I have no experience with adoption whatsoever. But it is an option that we find interesting, and have done some research into. And just the RESEARCH, just the mildly curious "hey I wonder what it would entail for us to do this someday" Googling, is ALREADY exhausting. ALL forms of adoption are difficult. International and domestic private adoption are incredibly expensive. Even adopting publicly in the U.S., through the foster system, while it is not as prohibitively priced as other types of adoption, is a slow, painful, sometimes emotionally devastating process.

Here are some of the things that can happen when you try to adopt:

• You go into serious debt, and/or spend all of your savings.
• You spend years going through bureaucracy and paperwork.
• You think you're going to get to adopt a certain child, and then it falls through, leading to heartbreak.
• You don't end up with a child until years and years have passed, if ever.
• You end up with a child with special needs that require a very specific parenting skill set, one that you may or may not be equipped to handle.
• A child comes to your home well past infancy, often with emotional or psychological issues related to past trauma or difficult early life experiences.
• As you raise the child, you have to work with them to carefully address questions of where they came from, why they aren't there anymore, and what this means for them in the future.
• So many, many, many other complicated situations that I cannot even begin to envision.

I'm not saying that adoption is bad, or that these obstacles are insurmountable, or that they should deter people who are interested in adopting from pursuing it. Not at all. But what I AM saying is that adopting can be a very slow, difficult, challenging, expensive thing to do, and it is NEVER so simple as telling someone to "just do it." Because it can't "just" be done. There is NO "just" about it.

So if people WANT to adopt, that's great. But if they DON'T want to adopt? There is NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. There are all different ways to form a family, and some of them are right for some people, and others are right for other people, but EVERY FAMILY has to figure out what would work for THEM. And adoption is not right for everyone.

PLUS, and this is the part that I feel should be EVEN MORE OBVIOUS, and yet apparently IS NOT, why should people who have trouble with infertility be the ones who are told to adopt? Why is there this line in the sand? So often, I see or hear people say that they think it's selfish for a couple to pursue fertility treatments when there are already so many children out there who need a home. Which, first of all, I've already discussed why "children who need a home" does not equate to "just adopt!" So it's not as simple as, "Oh, I have a home, and they need a home, let's just put the two together, and we're done!"

But second of all, if it's selfish to pursue pregnancy when there are already kids out there who need parents, why is it only selfish for people who have to work harder for their pregnancies? Why is it not selfish for me to have gotten pregnant? Just because we happened to be lucky enough to have it occur quickly and without assistance? That has nothing to do with us, or with our ability to parent. It doesn't change the fact that we decided to create a person instead of bringing an already-existing person who needs a home into our family.

The point is, whether or not it's selfish to create people instead of adopting people is COMPLETELY UNRELATED to how much work it takes any given person to create another person. There is not some magic threshold, like, "Oh, she got pregnant right away, so that's OK then," whereas, "Oh, he had a medical issue that made it impossible for them to get pregnant without assistance, so they sought medical treatment that allowed them to become pregnant, HOW DARE THEY DO THAT INSTEAD OF ADOPT." There is NO DIFFERENCE. In both cases, the couple decided they wanted to be pregnant, and took the necessary steps to achieve that goal. And it is TOTALLY IRRELEVANT that there were MORE steps involved for one couple than the other.

And that is before we even consider that there is NOTHING WRONG with wanting to be pregnant. It is utterly indescribable to me how cool it is to be pregnant. To GROW a person. To create a person who will share my genes and Torsten's. To KNOW everything that has happened to this little person in the entire course of his existence, to know what his prenatal experience was like. To get to anticipate giving birth to him and raising him from the minute he comes into the world. To get to bond with him and have skin-to-skin contact with him from the day he is born. To not have to worry that someone else will exercise their last-minute right to take him away from me. To know that I MADE this person, that he is the product of the love that my husband and I share, that we get to experience him together. That he is part of both of us and also his own self, all at once.

So PLEASE. Let us all recognize that everyone has the right to seek the family they wish to have, in whatever form that may take, using whatever steps are necessary to get there. Adoption is a wonderful thing. So are pregnancy and childbirth. Neither one is for everyone. Everybody needs to make their own decision about what is right for their family. And "how hard it is to get pregnant" is not an acceptable factor for anyone to use when judging how others put their families together.

Playlist for childbirth

Well. Happy 2011, everyone. 2011 is also known around these parts as The Year of the Baby. And also, January is known as the Month of the Baby. (Unless he is so late that I have to be induced, which could theoretically happen as late as February 1. And while I would like to avoid being induced if at all possible, at least if he comes in February his birthstone will be an amethyst, am I right?)

Anyway! It's my Due Month, and in fact my due date is just over two weeks away, and that means that at some point in the next few weeks, there will be, you know, a baby here in our house. But before he can come to our house in his car seat, he'll have to get out of my uterus. As in, I have to, you know, give birth.

I actually feel somewhat prepared for this. We did a Bradley class, which was immensely helpful for both of us. I am hoping to have a natural, unmedicated birth, but am also keeping in mind that a lot of what will happen during the birth is well beyond anyone's control, and that the important thing is to adapt to the situation and make the best possible decisions for our individual circumstances. Assuming there are no unexpected complications, there will be a birthing tub involved. Torsten and the midwife (and the nurses) will be the only other people there. I know I'm probably insane, and I understand that this will be one of the most intense and challenging experiences of my life, but I am actually excited about giving birth. Like, I'm looking forward not just to finally meeting Piglet (though that too, believe me), but to the actual process of labor. Really, I am.

We've written a birth plan and shared it with our midwives, who are totally on board with it and say that it is quite feasible and attainable. We've packed the hospital bag. The nursery is done (and photos are forthcoming! I promise). So now we're on to the small details. Like the music. And that's where you come in.

I do not have particularly sophisticated or in-depth musical taste, even just for, you know, listening in the car. We do have a subscription to Rhapsody, and that is usable in the hospital, which means that we will have access to almost any music you can think of, giving us lots of flexibility in case I take violently against something and demand to hear something else that I have never listened to before in my life. I also know that perhaps I will hate the music and insist that it be shut off entirely.

But assuming that I don't hate the music, I have no idea what kind of music I will actually want to hear. I want to put together a playlist, or maybe multiple playlists? Like a more energetic one and a more soothing one? I don't even know. Having never given birth, I have no idea what kind of music is best suited to labor.

Of course, I assume that the answer to that question is that it depends very much on the individual, but I still want to benefit from your collective knowledge. So tell me, what did you want during labor, music- and atmosphere-wise? Did you want music at all? What kind? Any specific artists or songs? Was there anything you just couldn't stand? If you put together a playlist in advance, did it end up being what you wanted to hear in the middle of it all? Should we bother making a playlist, or more than one? And if so, what should we put on it (them)?

Maternity photos eeee

Torsten and I booked our maternity photo session months ago, after discovering an amazing, and incredibly reasonably priced, photographer online by chance. I loved her blog and portfolio, and after a couple of quick email exchanges, I knew that she totally got the vibe we wanted--not the traditional studio portraits involving bare bellies and gauze, but more of a regular family photo shoot wherein my pregnant belly was considered part of the family.

We also knew we wanted it to be outdoors, somewhere that really looked like Colorado, so after some consultation with our photographer, we settled on Red Rocks Park. And it turned out to be the perfect choice.

I am so, so happy with these photos. I don't think I've ever liked so many photos of myself out of a single batch before in my life. All photos are courtesy of the absolutely amazing Kristy Rowe of Moodeous Photography. You can see a much bigger set of them here.

Pet peeve: how long pregnancy ACTUALLY is

Yesterday marked exactly one month until my due date. Which means that technically when people ask when I'm due, I could say, "The 19th," and not need to qualify it with a month, because it's the NEXT 19th. Yikes! I think I'm going to keep saying "next month" until we actually get to January, though. But still. Less than a month away.

Speaking of pregnancy months, here is a pet peeve of mine: it feels like every pregnant woman I know complains that nobody ever told her that pregnancy is actually TEN months long, not nine (which, given that everybody seems to complain about this, makes it surprising that they all seem so shocked by this apparent revelation, since you would think they would have heard each other complaining about it in the past).

But my real issue is this: pregnancy is NOT ten months long. It's not really even quite nine months long. Let me break this down for you. Those of you who have been pregnant before likely know this, but I didn't know some of it until I myself got pregnant, so let's start at the beginning.

Pregnancy is measured as being 40 weeks long. As in, when you hit 40 weeks, that is your due date. BUT, the 40 weeks are counted from the date of your last menstrual period, NOT from the date of ovulation or conception (and those can actually happen a day or so apart as well). Most women ovulate at least two weeks after the first day of their period. So for those first two weeks of "pregnancy," you are NOT actually pregnant. You are only considered to have been pregnant retroactively, but during those first two weeks you could easily have avoided getting pregnant, by using birth control or not having sex (or not going through fertility procedures, and so on--the point is, during those two weeks, the pregnancy was not a foregone conclusion).

Got it? For the first two of the 40 weeks, you were NOT pregnant, even though that time is counted as part of your pregnancy.

So for one thing, pregnancy is actually only 38 weeks from conception to due date. Though sometimes it pushes closer to 40 weeks again if the baby comes late.

But let's just say, for a second, that pregnancy really is exactly 40 weeks long. THAT IS STILL NOT TEN MONTHS. That is approximately ten LUNAR months, but we DO NOT COUNT TIME IN LUNAR MONTHS. If we did, we would say that a year is 13 months long, but we don't. We say it is 12 months long, because that's what our calendars say--all of our months except February are longer than four weeks.

To be exact, a 30-day month is 4.29 weeks long, and a 31-day month is 4.43 weeks long. Let's average those out and round down a tad to account for February (or we could divide 365 by 12, and then divide that by 7, which would give us the same result) and say that a month is, on average, 4.35 weeks long.

So, if we count pregnancy as 40 weeks and a month as 4.35 weeks, that would make pregnancy about 9.2 months long. And if we count the actual time that you are pregnant, assuming an on-time delivery, as 38 weeks, that makes pregnancy about 8.7 months long. NOT EVEN NINE MONTHS.

In case your eyes crossed when I started using decimal points, I charted my cycle the month I got pregnant, so I have exact dates that I can use to demonstrate this more concretely:

My last period started on April 13. I ovulated on April 26. My due date is January 19 (though some calculators/wheels list it as January 18, which I think is actually more accurate--but is not what's in my chart). So, let's see. April 13 to January 19? NOT ten months. April 26 to January 19? DEFINITELY not ten months.

I KNOW, the point pregnant women are trying to make is that pregnancy is long and often feels even longer, but it drives me NUTS when they try to express this by talking about how it is ten months long. IT IS NOT TEN MONTHS LONG.

Nine months is long enough that we all have PLENTY of legs to stand on when it comes to complaining about the misery of the experience. Let's not all undermine our credibility by exaggerating just to make our plights sound THAT much more dire.