Birth Story

Little Edson is two weeks old today.  To celebrate, I'm finally blogging his birth story.  

The Monday before, I had a bout of nesting that led to a more serious cleaning than had happened in weeks (months?). I deep cleaned the kitchen and washed/disinfected a slew of baby toys.  That night I felt restless, more physically uncomfortable than usual.  David went to bed early hoping to get rid of his head cold.  I stayed awake, kneeling on the floor, draped over the coffee table and decidedly not sleepy.  Eventually, I went to bed and woke up to contractions at 12:30. 

They were already intense - I was anticipating hours and hours of early labor. I don't know if I slept through it, but these contractions were already five minutes apart. I was determined to not get sent home from the hospital and I wanted David to sleep as much as possible because he was so sick. I held it together for a few hours, but I had to get out of bed to cope. By 3:30, I had accidentally awakened David with the squeaky floor boards and yoga ball. I started timing the contractions shortly thereafter, and they were already 2-2:15 minutes apart and 45-60 seconds long.  So we called our super-doula, Ruth, and got to the hospital around 4:30. 

My mom and I have an inside joke that we can't go anywhere without running into one of David's acquaintances.  This trip, it was the ER attendant who opened the door and tried to put me in a wheelchair (I was having a contraction and didn't want to sit down).  Thankfully, they kept the chitchat to a minimum, and I was wheeled up quickly. I was at 4-5cm and 70% effaced at that point ( I think - this is all kind of fuzzy).  The nurses asked question after question. I remember thinking,"Why can't everyone just stop talking to me? Can't they see I'm busy?" After a while, I just stopped answering.

Future mothers, when it's your turn, I highly recommend finding a hospital with a big tub.  The warm water is fantastic.  It all went downhill after I got out.  At some point, the good Dr. broke my water.  My coping measures weren't working, and I was checked again at 7-8 cm, but with a lopsided cervix (Has anyone heard of that?  I sure hadn't), so I had to labor on my side on the bed.  I hated that bed more than I've hated anything else. Ever. In the world. Lying down made everything feel exponentially worse, and it took a great deal of self-control to stay down instead of getting up and leaving.  My brain was all doped up on hormones, so I don't remember the details except for the fact of pain and wondering if it was too late for drugs. Labor in media is mostly loud screaming and angry invectives against the men in the room.  I was quieter than I anticipated - it was way too much effort to say the rude things that popped into my head.  The meanest I got was responding to David's well-meaning, "Relax your shoulders," with a "YOU relax your shoulders."

After two hours of transition, I felt like I needed to push.  Something.  From an unknown location in my body.  It was the most important thing my body has ever done and there was no way to prepare for it - push what from where?  How do you do this never having done it before?  Pushing was absolutely the most frustrating part.  I felt like it wasn't working, I wasn't doing it right.  Finally, they had me haul myself up on the squat bar every contraction.  At this point, I finally felt things moving. Ruth encouraged me to feel his head, which helped my emotions and gave me more determination.  Crowning was painful. The name ring of fire is apt, except it maybe implies a smaller object (a ring) than a grapefruit-sized head coming out. I finally pushed his head and body out in one determined push (the sooner to end the burning pain), and there he was. There really was a baby in there, and he looked huge (he wasn't - totally a normal-sized baby). I was amazed that such an enormous thing was in my not-THAT-big belly and pushed out of, er, somewhere that's pretty small too. 

But he wasn't breathing right, so they whisked him to the table and surrounded him with nurses. I felt I should be scared, but wasn't. He cried pretty quick. I held him for a couple minutes before they took him to the NICU to make sure everything was ok.  David went with him.  I was sad they took him away, but I still wasn't afraid (hormone-high? Those hormones are powerful).  Even when David came back with no baby and with a doctor, I still felt unnaturally calm.  The summary: Crusher had gone without oxygen during delivery and they were concerned about organ damage.  The standard procedure had a very long list of risks, including being in the NICU for 72 hours. They weren't sure if it was necessary or not.  We decided to keep him with us. And with us he's stayed. 

Edson Roland Sloan, 7lbs 5 oz and 20"

Proud dad and his happy son.

David is a natural. And in love. It's precious to see my already big-hearted husband's heart grow even more. And one look at Edson's precious face makes my heart melt and eases any irritation at being woken up at all hours for mealtime.

Pregnancy Body... a lot changes in 2 weeks

Christmas break is a True Christmas Miracle for teachers.  A gift, arriving at the perfect time, it prevents us from going a little crazy.  Or a lot of crazy.

It also gave me a chance to sleep (or at least lie down) for a few precious extra hours, and wear comfortable clothes.  One of my goals was to avoid real pants for four days.  I won that game.  I only broke out the jeans for ONE DAY!  It was glorious (not the jeans... those have started to hurt).

But going back to work last Wednesday really drove home how much my body has deteriorated ... grown ... advanced in its pregnancy in the last few weeks.  For example,

• Before break, I was working 9.5-10 hour days trying to get ready for emergency sub plans, etc.  I was tired and cranky.  Wednesday and Thursday, I tried pulling those same hours and went home nearly in tears, my body ached so much.  I tweaked my right knee (due to relaxing joints), spent too much time with my weight on my left foot, thus tweaking my left foot.  Standing, walking, and sitting in one position for too long make them throb.  Also still painful: pelvic bone.  When I stand up, I take the first five or six steps bent over like an old lady until the pain subsides.  
• My belly itches all day long.  I think about it constantly.  David started making fun of the noises I make when I scratch.  I have tried four or five so-called "tried and true" lotions/remedies to no avail.
• Crusher is still pretty high, so my BH contractions literally take my breath away, as my uterus presses against my lungs.  That doesn't hurt, it just makes it hard to explain the placement of reflexive pronouns or walk up stairs.  He also still likes pushing my right rib with his wee foot.  
• I pee every 45-90 minutes or so.  Apparently when he drops, it will be more frequent (???).
• My brain is completely gone.  Last night, I set an oven mitt on fire because I turned on the wrong burner.  David caught it before the kitchen went up in flames.  I also can't remember words like drawer (that openy thing in the hallway where the stuff is?) or keys (the things that you put in the  door to make it open?).

On the plus side, my leg hair stopped growing, so I don't have to do complicated shower-yoga to shave.  The most intricate and perplexing position I have to assume is at the doctor.  Peeing in a little cup when you can't see anything down there... it's an adventure.

Also on the plus side, there's a real person in there.  It's still pretty surreal, but I want to meet him.  I want to see his little face and kiss his little feet that hurt my ribs and kick David when he touches my belly.  But this train of thought is making me cry, so, suffice it to say, my body is making it easy for me to start looking forward to labor.

Crusher's newest tricks

He can now twist his head on top of my already-diminished bladder, causing a sharp and urgent need to pee. Right That Second.

Yesterday, David and I went for a walk.  It was 28 degrees or so.  I went to the bathroom first, then immediately put on boots, coat, hat, scarf, and gloves.

And had to pee again.  Not 2 minutes later.

David said, "Are you serious?"
I did not deign to answer except with my waddly hustle to the bathroom.  Or maybe I said, "Shut up," or "That's not nice," or some other witty response.

Week 35, day 4

The three of us at a Christmas party

My lovely cousin wrote me a message, asking how things were going.  As I typed, it hit me - I'm full term in 10 days.  He could come in 10 days and be healthy and fine.  If it were easier for me to stand, I'd go take a picture of the "nursery" to post.  Rolls of Christmas paper, a spilled box of ribbons, piles of papers (to file, pregnancy info, baby info, stuff I can't figure out what to do with, coupons, notebooks, cards I was supposed to send, magazines), piles of books, the clothes drying rack (with clean clothes drying - 10 points for me!), baby stuff in boxes, baby stuff out of boxes waiting to be cleaned and put away, a lamp (on the floor because there's no room anywhere else).  Alas!  The description will have to do, as I'm definitely too tired to get up and photograph the chaos.  I have my work cut out for me.  Preferably, before I go back to work.

New symptoms: 

• Can't breathe.  He's crushing my lungs.  We walked to the grocery store the other day and I had to stop to catch my breath.  It's one mile away.  At work, I have to catch my breath halfway up the stairs.  
• Braxton Hicks.  Go, uterus, go!  It's practicing away, which is extra fun with my lungs in the condition they're in.  More gasping for breath as the lungs get even squisheder.
• Itchy belly.  
• Poo problems.  No details (you're welcome).
• Can't sit, stand, or lie down comfortably for longer than 30 minutes.  I'm still grunting (in a most dignified fashion) every time I move.

Dealing with diabetes:

After the first two weeks, it got easier.  I don't cry when people offer me cookies anymore.  My numbers have evened out to what they are supposed to be the vast majority of the time.  Most of my cake cravings are gone.  That makes being noble easier.

I am frequently not noble.  Last week, I had the most divine french toast stuffed with berries and whipped cream cheese.  Felt sick all afternoon.  Worth it.  Christmas morning, I cheated by having a clementine with my sausage strata (I'm not supposed to have fruit before lunch).  My numbers were fine.  DEFINITELY worth it, and tempting me to cheat with fruit more regularly.

Best meals that kept my numbers good so far:

• Chicken Saltimbocca with Hearty Minestrone (no noodles).  Winning number: 95
• Turkey, gravy, sauteed green beans with maple pecans and orange essence, small serving of mashed potatoes, pan-roasted pear salad with balsamic glaze.  Soda water and cranberry juice mocktail.  Winning number: 112
• Baked salmon with lemony crust, steamed broccoli, blue potato.  Winning number: 97

My biggest breakthrough was noticing the stress pattern.  My blood sugar is crazy high when I'm stressed and low when I'm relaxed.  Even when I eat the same exact meal.  Then I get stressed out over being stressed out, exacerbating the problem and adding to the my-cortisol-is-hurting-my-baby guilt.  It's a good thing it's Christmas break.  I only have to work for 18 more days.

Official count: 32 days left.  Hurray for Crusher!

I might be 32 weeks pregnant?

That sounds right.  I think last week I was telling people I was 31 weeks pregnant, but it's getting more and more difficult to remember things like that.  Or any things.  Or walk up the stairs.

I'm also feeling a little brain-fogged after waking up after a nightmare SO ANGRY at David I couldn't get back to sleep (he wouldn't turn his music down in the dream, and I had to call my mom to tell her I had just given birth to a baby girl).  So I've been awake for a while.

Now I've forgotten what I was going to blog about.

I have a student who asks me a random pregnancy question every day.  Most of them are normal Can he hear?  Does he pee?  Do you feel him kick?  Yes, yes, yes.  But on Tuesday, he had the Best Question Ever.

If you throw up, could you throw up your baby?

I could have said, "Yes, it's really scary, but usually they just have you swallow the baby again and it's ok."  Or even, "You have zero understanding of female anatomy, huh?"

But I said with a straight face, "No, the uterus is not connected to the stomach."

Until all the kids around him started laughing.  Then I laughed to the point of tears.  It's ok.  He can take some mockery.  This is Star Wars boy.  The same boy who said, "But I thought Star Wars was filmed on other planets."

In diabetic world, I'm testing adding some unsweetened coco powder and stevia to my warm vanilla milk.  I'll let you know how it goes.  I miss hot chocolate.  And all chocolate.

Pregnancy Body

Two weeks ago, the very morning my third trimester started, my body changed.

My belly looks like a sportsball hidden in my shirt. That, combined with an achy pain down on my pelvic bone (preparing to separate! says the doctor), make me walk like I'm on a ship in stormy seas.  It's not quite a waddle, but it's definitely not a walk.  I feel like I'm rolling forward on uneven ground.  And I let out porcine grunts every time I get out of the car.  Or into the car.  Or stand up.  Or sit down.  Even more hilarious, when I'm lying on my side and want to change sides, I try to roll.  Sometimes I get stuck on my back in the middle.  So I try using my limbs to propel me the rest of the way by waving them in the air.  I feel like a beetle stuck on its back.  I don't usually hit David with the flailing bug-legs.  When I (accidentally) do, he very kindly gives me a little push to launch me to my destination.

There are still 10 weeks to go, folks!  It's only going to get more entertaining from here.

Probably the most disappointing pregnancy body development, I failed my glucose test.  For the laypeople, that's the blood sugar test in which they take a pregnant woman, make her FAST and go to the clinic that is not open early enough.  There, she has to chug a sweet syrup (think warm 7up before the carbonated water has been added - thick and painfully sweet) and get poked every hour for two hours.  All while not eating, drinking, or leaving the waiting room.  By the end, I had the shakes and the most severe case of the grumps in memory.  Ask David or Stephanie.  It was bad.

Anyway, I failed (or, rather, my pancreas was sabotaged by my overabundance of pregnancy hormones), and have gestational diabetes.

I cried for a few minutes hours to get used to the idea of a) being a diabetic and b) not being able to have carbs or sugar for the holidays.  Think about that last one for a while.  Turkey, but no stuffing, mashed potatoes, rolls, or pie.  No alcohol, obviously, but also no sparkling cider.

I was floored.  I've been pretty darn conscientious about what and how much I eat.  I've been exercising some.  The doc reassured me it's just genetics, and I only barely didn't pass the test (I was three points off the last blood draw).  Well, cussedy cusswords.

Now, I get to check my sugars four times a day and go on a diet that I think might drive me to the brink.  I still have a phone meeting with the dietician, and I have lots of questions.  Hopefully, I'll be able to post some fun holiday recipes that are diabetes friendly.  Also, I probably won't gain a gazillion pounds, for which I will be grateful when February rolls around.  And most importantly, Crusher will be healthier and under 13 pounds.  Hopefully.

Pregnancy Brain

I've been thinking about this post for a while, and recent events compel me to finish it and publish it.

My brain is dying slowly.

Think I'm being melodramatic?  Consider these happenings:

• I just tried to steam broccoli with no water in the pot.  That can melt the pot.  Thankfully, I was hungry enough to wonder why my water hadn't started boiling and looked.
• I turned up the south hill instead of down to drive to work.  The same work I've been driving to every day for five years.  I was late that day.
• I forget the names of my coworkers... some of whom I talk to every day.
• I forgot that the oven was hot after baking cupcakes and burned my arm.  I then forgot to take the cupcakes out of the oven.  It took a good long soak to wash the burnt cake off.

And these are just the things I remember.  I'll poll David to see if there are more later.