Friday, August 24, 2012

1 Week Old

Hail The Conquering Hero: Take IV

I don't know how it happened, but my cervix is the gate keeper.

I was sure I wouldn't see my doctor for that Wednesday appointment.  He was sure.  My mother-in-law and mom were sure.  BRETT was sure.  We were all so sure Kian would make his appearance before 39 weeks.


The thing about being induced, and this is my first time, is that it's a hit or miss.  I mean, first, you have to wake up at the butt crack of dawn, nay, before the butt crack of dawn, to call the hospital to see if they can even take you.

So I stayed up all of last Wednesday night fretting.

"What if they can't take me tomorrow?  I'll die.  I.  Will.  Die.  My moms will hate me.  Brett got work off, and it will have been a wasted vacation day.  What will we even do tomorrow if they can't take me."

So, 3 a.m. comes, I make the call, they tell me they're full and they'll "call" me when a labor room becomes available.  Psht.  I've heard that line before.  Ok, not exactly that line.  But still.

So, of course I couldn't go back to sleep.  I cried.  I seethed.  I hit Brett and made him wake up and suffer with me.  He lasted all of 23 seconds.

I laid in bed until 9 the next morning without having had another wink of sleep.  I knew I'd regret it.  I called the hospital a few more times.  Always the same answer: they'll call.

I made my appearance to two very disappointed mothers.  I was grumpy.  I was feeling picked on and pregnant and super uncomfortable.  I didn't want condolences.  I wanted to shop.

So, I did my makeup.  Pulled my hair back.  Put on a bra.  Miracle of miracles.  Got dressed, came out and then the phone rang.


I've never wanted a phone call like that in all my life.

It was really strange going to the hospital to have a baby and not be in labor.  It was so calm.  Got into bed without bending over in agony.  Took myself to the bathroom several times.  Watched t.v.

I breathed through the first 6 hours of pitocin induced contractions.  It turns out those breathing exercises really work!  Who knew!

Even when they were coming fast and furious, breathing really helped.  I wanted to keep going without any pain medicine, but I'm weak, and the nurse kept saying cryptic things like, "The doctor is coming to break your water.  If you want an epidural, you'll have to get it now."

The anesthesiologist kept coming in, squirting a needle excitedly, only to be turned away from me.

But I gave in.  Got the epidural (most painful one out of 4, I might add).  I asked for only one dose, and I could still move my legs a little bit.  The doctor came and broke my water.  40 minutes and 2 pushes later, Kian was born!  Bing bam boom.  He was crawling up and looking to latch on before they even cut the umbilical cord.  It was awesome.

I got to hold him as long as I wanted right after he was born.  It was love at first sight.  All my worries that I had being pregnant evaporated the second he squawked.  And really, it was only one squawk.  Absolutely adorable.  The whole birth was so quiet and calm.  It was amazing.

7 lb 8oz
20 in
Born at 8:28 pm August 16, 2012
Reddish blonde hair and dark green eyes (weird, huh?)

More pictures to come:

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Size J Crochet Hook Would Do the Trick

*Warning: Post contains irritable complaints from 38 week pregnant woman sitting in 102 degree weather at 10 in the morning.  You've been warned.

Sometimes you need a blue personality to validate you.

My good fried Mel is always good at giving me perspective and helping me realize that, essentially, I'm not all that crazy.

I'm crazy, but just the normal degree.  I'm like a level 3 crazy.  Not too bad.

Someone posted on my FB status that I was impatient to get my baby out.

Like, what's so different from you and all the other billions of women pooping out babies?

I don't know, but I assume it might have something to do with a good solid month of contractions.

Of worry and stress that he'll come too early.

Then of just not knowing: are these horribly painful and hard contractions doing anything to that gate-keeper of cervixes?

Do we go into the hospital?

Do I risk it and end up pooping the baby out in the car.

Or the laundry room, because that's usually where I am, anyway.  (Statistically, it would be the laundry room.)

So, it felt really good to have Mel tell me she went through the exact same thing.  Pissy uterus and all.  Worry, stress, pain, restless nights, foggy days...

Throw in 118 degree weather and that level 3 crazy isn't looking too shabby.  I swear I'm seeing things.  The house exploded (didn't I just clean it?)  The dishes are multiplying on their own and my laundry is going at it like rabbits.

Hallucinations?  I totally think so.

I hate to complain (haahaha!  not!)  But, I'm so done.  Being induced in 5 days does nothing for my sanity.  I'm eyeing my crochet hooks with tender love.  They could break my bag of waters like nobody's business.  In the meantime, I'll walk another 3 miles, brave Saturday morning Costco in Mesa.  With 4 million octogenarians telling me a) how absolutely adorable and perfect my children are or b) how absolutely horrible and petrifying my children are.  And I will pray my nubs off that I go into labor.  Right. Freaking. Now.

(You think this is bad.  This is coming after much heart felt prayer, giving all my sense of control over the Lord for him to hold the burden.  This is the stuff left over. ;)  Or maybe I'm just not that good at letting go of control.  Nah...couldn't be that...)

Friday, August 03, 2012

Eviction Notice


This is your official notice.

Get out of my uterus by tomorrow or I'll...




I'll wait a little longer.

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