I get the distinct feeling that I'm not cut out to be a Stay at Home Mum.
I love my little monster. I love him so much that sometimes I cry about it, just break down sobbing at how wonderful he is. But I don't think I was built to be a stay at home parent.
I always knew I wasn't maternal. Even as a child, I knew it. Which is why until I was about 25, I was dead-set against having kids.
When I met Mr. Wolfman, kids weren't something we discussed and not long after we moved in together, I found out that he thought he was too old. I was fine with this. Then, a year or so later, I was looking at him, and I thought, I really want this man's babies. So I asked him if he didn't want kids, or just thought he'd missed his chance. Turns out, he did want them, and so did I.
But that doesn't mean that my personality just changed and I suddenly became a big ball of maternal sunshine. It didn't and I'm not. And while I love my son, literally more than life, I still don't particularly care for babies in general. And I don't feel like being home with him 24/7 is my calling, per se.
It's hard to put into words. It's not that I think there is anything wrong with being a SAHM. In fact, I think it's incredibly noble and something that is far, far more difficult than people (including me, before I was one) realize or give credit for. So when I say I want to do more with my life, I'm not saying that dedicating your life to your children isn't doing something.
The truth is, I do want to do more with my life. I want to be more. I don't want to be defined as the little monster's mummy, or Mr. Wolfman's wife. They're roles I love, but I don't feel like they should make up the whole of who I am. The truth is, that in 20 years or less, the little monster will move out and move on. If we do a good job raising him, and maintain a good relationship, we'll still see or talk to him frequently, but he's not going to need us day-to-day. The truth is, that long before I came along, Mr. Wolfman had defined himself as a strong, educated, confident man. He has a lot going for him, and if you took away me and the monster, there would be no question about who he is.
Me, I feel like I just sort of squeeze myself into whatever role suits the moment. I spent my young adulthood putting off my own development. I was raised to get by, so I've been getting by for my whole adult life, working jobs I hate, filing away lists of things I want to do, or learn, or be, when I have the money or when I have the time. Now that I'm a mum, it's becoming painfully obvious that I will never have the money or the time, unless I steal it or make it.
In theory, this should be inspiring. I can make the time. I can save some money to pursue what I want to pursue. But, fuck. I'm tired. I'm so tired that the thought of thinking about the necessary steps to get a part time job is exhausting. The act of considering starting a little at home business puts me to sleep.
And anyway, all of this should be done after the housework, which is never, ever, ever done. Because the contemplation of doing dishes puts me into a zoned-out coma. The very idea of laundry makes me want to weep. I feel like it's a struggle just to keep my head above water, which is shameful, when I have a wonderful husband who goes above and beyond, and literally all I have to do is look after the monster and at least attempt to keep the place tidy.
Time for a diaper change. And then a feed. And then, and then. One of these days, I'll do something productive.... one of these days.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Monday, January 26, 2015
A Boring (but Informative) post about Cloth Diapering
Within a very short time after finding out I was pregnant, I knew I wanted to cloth diaper. There aren't very many reasons to do it, but what reasons there are are good ones.
- It's better for the baby
- It's better for the environment
- It's cheaper (assuming you don't use a diaper service)
Three reasons, that's it. Very briefly, it's better for your baby, because there are no harmful chemicals being held against their skin. It's better for the environment because you're not dumping plastics, harmful chemicals and human waste into landfills*. It's cheaper, because, even though it's a big initial investment, It's less than half of what using disposables costs. It cost us $450 for our stash, $150 for a mini washing machine (not necessary, but we live in a building with shared laundry) and $50 for a diaper sprayer. That's a total of $650, plus whatever extra water and electricity is needed. Disposables, which run us roughly $26/week would cost us $1,352 in the first year. If we ever have another little one, we won't have to buy cloth all over again, so we'll save huge there.
The 4th, not-really-a-reason-reason is that there are some adorable colours and patterns to choose from.
Our stash consists of 6 Blueberry Basix AIOs (All-In-Ones), 6 Charlie Banana and 6 Bum Genius Pockets, and one prefold cover with 3 soakers, which I still haven't worked out how to use and can't remember the brand of. It's not quite enough to use all the time, but I think another 3-6 AIO or Pocket diapers would do the trick. All of our diapers are one-size, which means that until the little monster was about 10 lbs, they were too big for him (even if they say they fit 8 lb babies, it may not be the case, so read the reviews)
The Blueberry AIO has the cutest shape, giving him a little bubble butt, but the downside is that they take forever to dry after washing (I have to hand-ring them and we hang-dry everything). The nice thing is that you don't have to fuss with trying to find the right insert for the diaper, because it's attached.
I think the BumGenius are my favourites, because they dry really fast and don't seem to leak ever. But they're quite bulky, so on the smallest size (the monster is now on the middle size), they take up a lot of room. It makes sitting awkward for him.
The Charlie Banana, I think start from 12 lbs. With one insert, they're super trim and look great under clothes... but they leak. You need two inserts (which to be fair, they do tell you on the package). With 2 inserts, they're bulky. Not quite as bulky as BumGenius, but not trim. Like BumGenius, they dry incredibly quickly, though not as quickly.
Practically, it does take more time with cloth. But not much more. Diaper changes themselves are just as fast, but instead of putting the diaper in the garbage, it needs to go into a pail, after being sprayed if it's poopy. Washing them takes me a while, but if I had a normal washer instead of a portable one that has to be filled by hand and has no spin-dry, I imagine it would take a lot less time. The majority of my washing time is spent filling the washing machine and hand-wringing the diapers after they're clean.
You also have to use non-petroleum ointments with cloth, which means not the super-cheap Vaseline that we use with disposables. There are some great ones on the market, though.
What we do right now, is combine cloth with disposables. At night, because the little monster never poops and usually doesn't wake up to eat, I don't change him unless he wakes up on his own, or I can feel that it's heavy. So he wears a disposable, because they are better at keeping moisture away from his skin. The first diaper of the day is likewise disposable, because I want him to have some daily tummy time without that bulk until he's able to crawl. And because I'm paranoid, I feel like the bulk of a cloth could make his car seat harness less effective, so if we're driving somewhere, he's in a disposable. The rest of the time, he wears cloth. Because our stash is a little small and we hang-dry, that means I have to wash them daily. I'm looking forward to the summer when I can save time by drying them outside.
We're still using disposable wipes because the cloth wipes I bought ended up being used to wipe away drool, and I don't want to accidentally use the same cloth on his face as his ass. We need to buy more cloth, colour-coded wipes before I'll feel comfortable.
*You're supposed to clean the poop out of disposable diapers before putting them in the garbage. Before the little monster was born, I quite condescendingly mocked people who don't do this. Now that I've had first-hand experience with newborn poop, I understand why no one does.
Sunday, January 25, 2015
My Thoughts on Circumcision
On my birth board, it's considered a violation to refer to male circumcision as genital mutilation. Which is exactly what it is.
I mean, look up the word genital, look up the word mutilation and draw your own conclusion. Unless you're mentally changing the meaning of one of those words, there aren't that many possibilities.
This is something I feel strongly about, obviously. Anything that puts babies and scalpels in close proximity is something I feel strongly about. Especially when the reasons for doing so are so stupid.
The one, not-very-stupid, but I think very misinformed reason I often read/hear is that a circumcised penis is a healthier penis. It's less likely to get dirty or infected, or have a funny smell. It's weird to me that women with vaginae (which are a lot more complex) are so hung up on the idea that, left uncircumcised, their sons won't be able to simply wash their penises. It's not that hard, people (no pun intended). Little baby penises just wipe clean. And as long as it's properly cleaned, there is no increased risk of infection from being left intact.
Ok, on to the other (extremely stupid) reasons people get their kids cut...
Religion. The stupidity of this shouldn't need an explanation, but I'll give it one. What if your son doesn't follow the same religion as you? What if your son converts to one of those religions where it's considered sinful to alter your body? What if your God created your son exactly the way He wanted him to be? What if your religion is a load of crap, and you've just cut a chunk off your son's penis for the sake of a made-up invisible man in the sky? If your religion asked you to cut off a piece of your child's ear or nose, would you do it?
He should look like his father. Ok, one, ew. Why the HELL would anyone want their son's penis to look like their sexual partner's penis? Why? Why would anyone care? How often do you think your son is going to be comparing his penis to his father's? Is your family made up of nudists, or does your son's father just let it all hang out? Would you dye your baby's hair to match his father's? I mean, that's a lot more noticeable in nearly every situation, and it'll hurt a lot less. OH, PS, adult penises and child penises don't look the same anyway.
He'll feel self-conscious around his friends. Do boys usually just sit around with their dicks out, taking notes? Also, in most of the world, circumcision isn't the norm and in the West, it's now about 50/50, so...
Women Won't Know What to do with an Uncircumcised Penis
It's not hard to figure out.
It's Better to do it as a Baby (it doesn't hurt as much/he won't remember). By this logic, we should all have carte blanche to do whatever the hell we want with our kids, until they're about 2 or 3. I mean, obviously children don't experience pain the way human people do, right? This is a huge burden off my mind, too, because I guess I can just leave my baby home alone while I go do whatever. As long as I make it back before he starves to death.. it's not like he'll remember anyway.
I mean, look up the word genital, look up the word mutilation and draw your own conclusion. Unless you're mentally changing the meaning of one of those words, there aren't that many possibilities.
This is something I feel strongly about, obviously. Anything that puts babies and scalpels in close proximity is something I feel strongly about. Especially when the reasons for doing so are so stupid.
The one, not-very-stupid, but I think very misinformed reason I often read/hear is that a circumcised penis is a healthier penis. It's less likely to get dirty or infected, or have a funny smell. It's weird to me that women with vaginae (which are a lot more complex) are so hung up on the idea that, left uncircumcised, their sons won't be able to simply wash their penises. It's not that hard, people (no pun intended). Little baby penises just wipe clean. And as long as it's properly cleaned, there is no increased risk of infection from being left intact.
Ok, on to the other (extremely stupid) reasons people get their kids cut...
Religion. The stupidity of this shouldn't need an explanation, but I'll give it one. What if your son doesn't follow the same religion as you? What if your son converts to one of those religions where it's considered sinful to alter your body? What if your God created your son exactly the way He wanted him to be? What if your religion is a load of crap, and you've just cut a chunk off your son's penis for the sake of a made-up invisible man in the sky? If your religion asked you to cut off a piece of your child's ear or nose, would you do it?
He should look like his father. Ok, one, ew. Why the HELL would anyone want their son's penis to look like their sexual partner's penis? Why? Why would anyone care? How often do you think your son is going to be comparing his penis to his father's? Is your family made up of nudists, or does your son's father just let it all hang out? Would you dye your baby's hair to match his father's? I mean, that's a lot more noticeable in nearly every situation, and it'll hurt a lot less. OH, PS, adult penises and child penises don't look the same anyway.
He'll feel self-conscious around his friends. Do boys usually just sit around with their dicks out, taking notes? Also, in most of the world, circumcision isn't the norm and in the West, it's now about 50/50, so...
Women Won't Know What to do with an Uncircumcised Penis
It's not hard to figure out.
It's Better to do it as a Baby (it doesn't hurt as much/he won't remember). By this logic, we should all have carte blanche to do whatever the hell we want with our kids, until they're about 2 or 3. I mean, obviously children don't experience pain the way human people do, right? This is a huge burden off my mind, too, because I guess I can just leave my baby home alone while I go do whatever. As long as I make it back before he starves to death.. it's not like he'll remember anyway.
Saturday, January 24, 2015
A Long, Long Overdue Post
I'm bad at this, apparently. But the Little Monster takes up so much time (I know, surprise, surprise, right?). This post will be a little hectic, but the following ones should be better. I just need to remember to write, then find the time.
Upcoming posts will have to do with:
This post, just to keep it relatively short, will be an update on everything that's happened in the last 4 months, and where we find ourselves.
The Little Monster is 4 months old. He's huge, or at least he seems huge. His hands are massive, but they always have been, compared to the rest of him. He can push himself up on his belly, and roll front-to-back and back-to-front and although he used to hate it with the firey passion of a thousand suns, he now tolerates tummy time. He can't quite sit up on his own, but that doesn't stop him from trying. Crawling is much the same.
He talks constantly. Just chatters away, sometimes to us, sometimes to his toys or his feet. The cutest thing he's done recently was smile and start saying "Boo boo booo" with a mouth full of boob.
He smiles and laughs a lot and every time he does, I feel like I could just die of happiness. It's the most wonderful thing in the world, and it's nearly impossible not to do silly and ridiculous things 24/7 just to try to get a smile.
He has a favourite book. I didn't think it was possible for babies this young to have favourite anythings, but he has a favourite book and a favourite toy and a few songs which he clearly prefers over others. Neither Mr. Wolfman or I are particularly musically inclined, and the Monster finds it hilarious when we sing to him. Except at night, when I sometimes sing him to sleep. Sad music makes him sad, the same way as it always did for me as a child (until I was maybe 11 or 12).
Where I am: I'm not getting any sleep. Last night, I was up with the monster every 45mins-1.5hrs and had nightmares in between. My wonderful Mr. took the monster for 2 hours(!) this morning and let me sleep. It was absolute bliss, but nowhere near enough to catch up on 4 months of next-to-no sleep.
Also, I've confirmed what I've long suspected: I'm a terrible housewife. I am not cut out to be a stay-at-home mum. My husband suggested we switch in a few months, and if I can find a job that will pay enough, I'm all for it. Mr. Wolfman has so much on his shoulders right now, and I don't feel like I'm pulling my weight, but at the same time, I'm permanently exhausted and starting to go nuts with cabin fever.
Well, the little monster is waking up. He's been napping behind me on the couch, but, of course sleeping when he sleeps doesn't work if he can roll off and hurt himself.
More posts to come :)
Upcoming posts will have to do with:
- Cloth diapering
- Vaccinations
- Circumcision
- Sleep (or the extreme lack thereof)
- Staying at Home
- Toys
- Some other Stuff
This post, just to keep it relatively short, will be an update on everything that's happened in the last 4 months, and where we find ourselves.
The Little Monster is 4 months old. He's huge, or at least he seems huge. His hands are massive, but they always have been, compared to the rest of him. He can push himself up on his belly, and roll front-to-back and back-to-front and although he used to hate it with the firey passion of a thousand suns, he now tolerates tummy time. He can't quite sit up on his own, but that doesn't stop him from trying. Crawling is much the same.
He talks constantly. Just chatters away, sometimes to us, sometimes to his toys or his feet. The cutest thing he's done recently was smile and start saying "Boo boo booo" with a mouth full of boob.
He smiles and laughs a lot and every time he does, I feel like I could just die of happiness. It's the most wonderful thing in the world, and it's nearly impossible not to do silly and ridiculous things 24/7 just to try to get a smile.
He has a favourite book. I didn't think it was possible for babies this young to have favourite anythings, but he has a favourite book and a favourite toy and a few songs which he clearly prefers over others. Neither Mr. Wolfman or I are particularly musically inclined, and the Monster finds it hilarious when we sing to him. Except at night, when I sometimes sing him to sleep. Sad music makes him sad, the same way as it always did for me as a child (until I was maybe 11 or 12).
Where I am: I'm not getting any sleep. Last night, I was up with the monster every 45mins-1.5hrs and had nightmares in between. My wonderful Mr. took the monster for 2 hours(!) this morning and let me sleep. It was absolute bliss, but nowhere near enough to catch up on 4 months of next-to-no sleep.
Also, I've confirmed what I've long suspected: I'm a terrible housewife. I am not cut out to be a stay-at-home mum. My husband suggested we switch in a few months, and if I can find a job that will pay enough, I'm all for it. Mr. Wolfman has so much on his shoulders right now, and I don't feel like I'm pulling my weight, but at the same time, I'm permanently exhausted and starting to go nuts with cabin fever.
Well, the little monster is waking up. He's been napping behind me on the couch, but, of course sleeping when he sleeps doesn't work if he can roll off and hurt himself.
More posts to come :)
Monday, September 29, 2014
Why Birth Plans are a Big Load of Crap (and also, why I couldn't care less)
Greetings. It's been a while. I'm going to write this fast, before the little monster wakes up.
I had planned on having an all-natural, un-medicated and painful birth. I had planned to do this on the 17th of September, which is when I was due. I had planned to go into labour on my own, or at the very least, I had really, really hoped I would. Well, Mice & Men and all that, right?
On the 21st, 4 days past my due date, my water broke. It very kindly did this as I sat down on the toilet, so it didn't make a mess anywhere, which, admittedly was cool. Once I was 90% sure it was my water, Mr. Wolfman and I got our stuff together and made our way to the nearest hospital, as the one I was going to deliver in was 40 mins away on a traffic-free miracle day and we wanted to be 100% sure before he called work and we drove all the way there.
The local hospital informed me that a) my water had indeed broken and b) since I went there first, they would have to give me the first round of antibiotics that I needed to help protect the little monster from Group B Strep. They did a cervical check and a few other little things, gave me the antibiotics and eventually discharged me so I could drive to the other hospital.
Mr. Wolfman had run out and got some food for the road, so we texted the necessary people and set out, our Go-bags having already been in the car for nearly a week. I wasn't feeling any contractions for most of this. The odd one here or there, but very light and painless, so we stopped at a beautiful spot on the side of the road for a picnic and to take some pictures, since the light was absolutely perfect. After lunch, we carried on to the delivery hospital.
I had planned on my labour starting properly somewhere during that drive. I had planned on being given at least until for my third or fourth dose of antibiotics for my labour to start naturally, before being induced. But that wasn't an option. I was brought directly to the delivery room, hooked up to antibiotics and told that they were going to start me on Oxytocin immediately to induce labour. I had a choice; I didn't have to sign the consent forms, but basically, I had to sign them. So I did.
I knew induction was a possibility, and I had planned to suffer through the extra pain without drugs. And I did, for a while. The oxy worked, and I was soon having proper contractions. And then having really quite painful contractions, and then feeling like I had one of the chest bursters from Alien in my ass, only it wouldn't burst... and then they got really, really bad.
I asked for laughing gas, as it was the least invasive, stayed in the system the shortest length of time, was the least likely to effect the baby. It doesn't do anything for the pain. It gets you stoned, so that the pain isn't very important. Just breathe it in through the contractions and voila! you're able to carry on, through even that, the most painful...
Nope. Not even close to the most painful anything. That came on a little later. First I was whimpering through the contractions, then groaning, wailing, and finally, all-out, screaming bloody murder. And when each one ended and I was done screaming, I was crying hysterically.
Mr. Wolfman was with me throughout, holding me through them. He had been really good about not trying to push me into pain meds, even though I'm sure if our roles were reversed, I would have had a nervous breakdown listening to him scream like that. But eventually, I asked him what I should do, if it was ok for me to get something for the pain. He told me I had nothing to be ashamed of, just get the epidural. So I did.
The nurse gave me a consent form to sign, of which I read the first sentence, which was basically agreeing that I had discussed and had the risks explained to me. Which I had not. She said the Dr. would explain when he arrived. I signed it, because at that point, if they told me amputating a limb would get the pain to stop, I would have signed a consent form for that, too. The anesthesiologist showed up and rushed through the risks, but I couldn't really focus by then. I remember he said headaches and I remember thinking some of the other ones he mentioned sounded kind of severe, but not what those were. Then he yelled at me (seriously, he yelled) because I apparently wasn't following his instructions. I kept telling him I didn't understand what he wanted me to do, that I would gladly do whatever it was, if he would just explain it to me, and he kept yelling, telling me I wasn't listening and I was doing it wrong. Eventually my husband just asked him and then translated, "Stick your ass out and roll your shoulders down." I stayed still for the shot, which itself wasn't even remotely painful.
I don't think it took very long to set in. Once it had, I didn't feel the next contraction at all. And then the little monster's heart rate dropped. I'd been hooked up to the Doppler, so I heard the drop right away. But before I had made the connection or said anything, the anesthesiologist was getting a little too adamant about how OK everything was. So I asked why the baby's heart rate was so low, and he just kept repeating everything was fine - so I kept telling him it clearly wasn't, because the heart rate was simply way too low (I checked with my husband afterward, it was about 60 at this stage, about 100 bpm less than it had been). In the same breath as "everything is fine" he was getting the nurse to call in another doctor, because of "Severe fetal [something]-cardia". Yes, I was pretty out of it, and no, I'm not a doctor. But I'm also not stupid, and I know the meaning of the words severe and fetal, and that the suffix cardia refers to the heart. So I wasn't buying the "everything is ok" story I was being fed over and over, by that guy and the nurses.
Another doctor showed up and stuck an oxygen mask over my head, told me it was for the baby because his heart rate was too low. Then they tried to wake the baby up by stroking his head (glad I was numb from the waist down at this stage) and eventually, they called Dr. Ladyhouse, because they were seriously starting to worry.
His heart rate went up pretty much on its own around the time Dr. Ladyhouse showed up. She explained that it had dropped so much because all of the adrenaline my body was producing to deal with the pain of the contractions just melted away, once the pain was gone. And since that adrenaline had also been fed to the little monster, it disappearing caused his heart rate to crash.
Once that adventure was over, they gave me a button to push to up my pain killers and everything was fairly calm and quiet for a while. They took me off the Oxytocin so that my body could hopefully start working on its own and to give the little monster a break from the stress.
I was pretty out of it, my lips were numb and I was mostly just rambling about stuff and trying to use my button as infrequently as possible. Eventually, I threw up again (I had thrown up everything from the 21st during the initial contractions. I'm not sure whether it was the 22nd by this time or not) and the nurse checked me again, told me I was ready to push and called Dr. Ladyhouse again.
It seemed like a second after she arrived, I needed to push. I was really surprised, and told her not yet. She told me I push, or they cut the baby out.
I had planned on delivering either squatting or on all fours, but the epidural made that impossible. I couldn't even move my legs reliably, there was no way they were going to support my weight. So I had to deliver the way I was completely against, on my back with my feet pushing against braces, pushing while a nurse and DH held my legs.
At Dr. Ladyhouse's request, I had calmed down on my pain button, but I still had to be told when I was having a contraction, so that I knew when to push. Things weren't progressing at a rate they liked, so they upped my oxytocin again. Eventually the contractions got painful again, but nothing like before the epidural. I guess I pushed for a solid 2.5 hours, but I was still incredibly out of it (I learned later that the epidural was full of a narcotic) and it only felt like about 20 mins.
He was born with open eyes, looking around at the world, not crying, but not looking very happy about things, either. And that's why I don't care that my birth plan was a total disaster. It's all very cliche, but when they gave him to me, I really didn't care how he had gotten there, just that I had him. All memory of the pain just melted away. I still remember the events, obviously, and I remember that there was pain, but I don't remember the pain itself.
He is absolutely perfect. Just totally adorable, and already very smart and alert and so soft and cuddly and... ahh! I was getting teary eyed yesterday at the thought that he can't just stay this size.
Mr. Wolfman is an absolute natural, and loves to snuggle the little monster and tell him about all the fun stuff they'll do together when he's older. He'd never even held a baby before and by the end of day one, had mastered changing, burping, swaddling* and cuddling. He's well and truly mastered sleep when they sleep as well.
Well, I need to wake up a certain adorable somebody and give him some breakfast. I had planned on this being a much shorter blog. I ended up saving it part way through writing and coming back to it. Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.
*which we can't do anymore because the little monster figured out how to flip back to front at 5 effing days old.
I had planned on having an all-natural, un-medicated and painful birth. I had planned to do this on the 17th of September, which is when I was due. I had planned to go into labour on my own, or at the very least, I had really, really hoped I would. Well, Mice & Men and all that, right?
On the 21st, 4 days past my due date, my water broke. It very kindly did this as I sat down on the toilet, so it didn't make a mess anywhere, which, admittedly was cool. Once I was 90% sure it was my water, Mr. Wolfman and I got our stuff together and made our way to the nearest hospital, as the one I was going to deliver in was 40 mins away on a traffic-free miracle day and we wanted to be 100% sure before he called work and we drove all the way there.
The local hospital informed me that a) my water had indeed broken and b) since I went there first, they would have to give me the first round of antibiotics that I needed to help protect the little monster from Group B Strep. They did a cervical check and a few other little things, gave me the antibiotics and eventually discharged me so I could drive to the other hospital.
Mr. Wolfman had run out and got some food for the road, so we texted the necessary people and set out, our Go-bags having already been in the car for nearly a week. I wasn't feeling any contractions for most of this. The odd one here or there, but very light and painless, so we stopped at a beautiful spot on the side of the road for a picnic and to take some pictures, since the light was absolutely perfect. After lunch, we carried on to the delivery hospital.
I had planned on my labour starting properly somewhere during that drive. I had planned on being given at least until for my third or fourth dose of antibiotics for my labour to start naturally, before being induced. But that wasn't an option. I was brought directly to the delivery room, hooked up to antibiotics and told that they were going to start me on Oxytocin immediately to induce labour. I had a choice; I didn't have to sign the consent forms, but basically, I had to sign them. So I did.
I knew induction was a possibility, and I had planned to suffer through the extra pain without drugs. And I did, for a while. The oxy worked, and I was soon having proper contractions. And then having really quite painful contractions, and then feeling like I had one of the chest bursters from Alien in my ass, only it wouldn't burst... and then they got really, really bad.
I asked for laughing gas, as it was the least invasive, stayed in the system the shortest length of time, was the least likely to effect the baby. It doesn't do anything for the pain. It gets you stoned, so that the pain isn't very important. Just breathe it in through the contractions and voila! you're able to carry on, through even that, the most painful...
Nope. Not even close to the most painful anything. That came on a little later. First I was whimpering through the contractions, then groaning, wailing, and finally, all-out, screaming bloody murder. And when each one ended and I was done screaming, I was crying hysterically.
Mr. Wolfman was with me throughout, holding me through them. He had been really good about not trying to push me into pain meds, even though I'm sure if our roles were reversed, I would have had a nervous breakdown listening to him scream like that. But eventually, I asked him what I should do, if it was ok for me to get something for the pain. He told me I had nothing to be ashamed of, just get the epidural. So I did.
The nurse gave me a consent form to sign, of which I read the first sentence, which was basically agreeing that I had discussed and had the risks explained to me. Which I had not. She said the Dr. would explain when he arrived. I signed it, because at that point, if they told me amputating a limb would get the pain to stop, I would have signed a consent form for that, too. The anesthesiologist showed up and rushed through the risks, but I couldn't really focus by then. I remember he said headaches and I remember thinking some of the other ones he mentioned sounded kind of severe, but not what those were. Then he yelled at me (seriously, he yelled) because I apparently wasn't following his instructions. I kept telling him I didn't understand what he wanted me to do, that I would gladly do whatever it was, if he would just explain it to me, and he kept yelling, telling me I wasn't listening and I was doing it wrong. Eventually my husband just asked him and then translated, "Stick your ass out and roll your shoulders down." I stayed still for the shot, which itself wasn't even remotely painful.
I don't think it took very long to set in. Once it had, I didn't feel the next contraction at all. And then the little monster's heart rate dropped. I'd been hooked up to the Doppler, so I heard the drop right away. But before I had made the connection or said anything, the anesthesiologist was getting a little too adamant about how OK everything was. So I asked why the baby's heart rate was so low, and he just kept repeating everything was fine - so I kept telling him it clearly wasn't, because the heart rate was simply way too low (I checked with my husband afterward, it was about 60 at this stage, about 100 bpm less than it had been). In the same breath as "everything is fine" he was getting the nurse to call in another doctor, because of "Severe fetal [something]-cardia". Yes, I was pretty out of it, and no, I'm not a doctor. But I'm also not stupid, and I know the meaning of the words severe and fetal, and that the suffix cardia refers to the heart. So I wasn't buying the "everything is ok" story I was being fed over and over, by that guy and the nurses.
Another doctor showed up and stuck an oxygen mask over my head, told me it was for the baby because his heart rate was too low. Then they tried to wake the baby up by stroking his head (glad I was numb from the waist down at this stage) and eventually, they called Dr. Ladyhouse, because they were seriously starting to worry.
His heart rate went up pretty much on its own around the time Dr. Ladyhouse showed up. She explained that it had dropped so much because all of the adrenaline my body was producing to deal with the pain of the contractions just melted away, once the pain was gone. And since that adrenaline had also been fed to the little monster, it disappearing caused his heart rate to crash.
Once that adventure was over, they gave me a button to push to up my pain killers and everything was fairly calm and quiet for a while. They took me off the Oxytocin so that my body could hopefully start working on its own and to give the little monster a break from the stress.
I was pretty out of it, my lips were numb and I was mostly just rambling about stuff and trying to use my button as infrequently as possible. Eventually, I threw up again (I had thrown up everything from the 21st during the initial contractions. I'm not sure whether it was the 22nd by this time or not) and the nurse checked me again, told me I was ready to push and called Dr. Ladyhouse again.
It seemed like a second after she arrived, I needed to push. I was really surprised, and told her not yet. She told me I push, or they cut the baby out.
I had planned on delivering either squatting or on all fours, but the epidural made that impossible. I couldn't even move my legs reliably, there was no way they were going to support my weight. So I had to deliver the way I was completely against, on my back with my feet pushing against braces, pushing while a nurse and DH held my legs.
At Dr. Ladyhouse's request, I had calmed down on my pain button, but I still had to be told when I was having a contraction, so that I knew when to push. Things weren't progressing at a rate they liked, so they upped my oxytocin again. Eventually the contractions got painful again, but nothing like before the epidural. I guess I pushed for a solid 2.5 hours, but I was still incredibly out of it (I learned later that the epidural was full of a narcotic) and it only felt like about 20 mins.
He was born with open eyes, looking around at the world, not crying, but not looking very happy about things, either. And that's why I don't care that my birth plan was a total disaster. It's all very cliche, but when they gave him to me, I really didn't care how he had gotten there, just that I had him. All memory of the pain just melted away. I still remember the events, obviously, and I remember that there was pain, but I don't remember the pain itself.
He is absolutely perfect. Just totally adorable, and already very smart and alert and so soft and cuddly and... ahh! I was getting teary eyed yesterday at the thought that he can't just stay this size.
Mr. Wolfman is an absolute natural, and loves to snuggle the little monster and tell him about all the fun stuff they'll do together when he's older. He'd never even held a baby before and by the end of day one, had mastered changing, burping, swaddling* and cuddling. He's well and truly mastered sleep when they sleep as well.
Well, I need to wake up a certain adorable somebody and give him some breakfast. I had planned on this being a much shorter blog. I ended up saving it part way through writing and coming back to it. Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.
*which we can't do anymore because the little monster figured out how to flip back to front at 5 effing days old.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Lift Off?
Well, not quite yet.
I know only about 4% of women go on their due dates, and I never really had an expectation of being one of them, so I wasn't really surprised to wake up this morning feeling much the same as I did last night. A little snugglier, maybe, and a little more tempted to try to convince Mr. Wolfman to skip work. But generally good and healthy and not crazily impatient.
I think part of this calmness stems from the fact that I have so much to do. Normally, this would be a cause for great anxiety, but I think all the stuff that I need to get done is balancing my impatience to have my baby, and it's put me into a state of near neutrality. Which is good, because if I was panicking right now, I definitely couldn't get the kitchen cleaned up and the laundry started, which I need to do before the little one gets here. I'm so not going to be doing housework for at least a few days after the birth.
Today we have an appointment with Dr. Ladyhouse, to set up an appointment for an induction next week, if the little monster doesn't appear before that. I still need to do some research on membrane sweeps to decide if I want one, but if I can avoid being given oxytocin, that would be a major plus. Not looking forward to the exam, which I'm sure will be necessary today. I'd really rather keep my lady parts between me and my husband, but what can you do? More of that to come, anyway.
Anyway, we decided we'd better pack the car as if this is it, because the hospital is 40 mins away, so if I somehow go into labour on the way there, we're not going to be able to turn around pick up our go bags. I'm going to bring my knitting, too, in case I do end up in the hospital. I'm positive for Group B Strep, which means the first thing they'll do when I do get admitted is give me antibiotics for 3-4 hours. It would be nice to get something done in that time and the blanket I've been working on is somewhere on my list of things to get done before the little one gets here.
Mr. Wolfman asked me to pack a bag for him for the hospital. Little does he know, I bought him a new one and packed it weeks ago. It's been hiding in the Little Monster's closet forever :) It's supposed to be a surprise, though (I'm 90% sure he doesn't know the address of this blog), so I'm thinking I'll walk it over to his work and sneak it into the trunk of the car before he gets done... and just hope he doesn't need anything out of the trunk before he gets home. I wanted to get him some comfy pajama pants for it, but there's nowhere around here to buy some. If I can sneak away for a few minutes after we've seen Dr. Ladyhouse, I might have more luck.
So, that's it. Or at least that's it for now. Tempting as it is to sit here and play around online (which is all I feel like I've been doing since work ended), I actually do have things that need to get done, not the least of which is taking a shower. I'm really wondering if my next post will include a baby or not. Only time will tell.
I know only about 4% of women go on their due dates, and I never really had an expectation of being one of them, so I wasn't really surprised to wake up this morning feeling much the same as I did last night. A little snugglier, maybe, and a little more tempted to try to convince Mr. Wolfman to skip work. But generally good and healthy and not crazily impatient.
I think part of this calmness stems from the fact that I have so much to do. Normally, this would be a cause for great anxiety, but I think all the stuff that I need to get done is balancing my impatience to have my baby, and it's put me into a state of near neutrality. Which is good, because if I was panicking right now, I definitely couldn't get the kitchen cleaned up and the laundry started, which I need to do before the little one gets here. I'm so not going to be doing housework for at least a few days after the birth.
Today we have an appointment with Dr. Ladyhouse, to set up an appointment for an induction next week, if the little monster doesn't appear before that. I still need to do some research on membrane sweeps to decide if I want one, but if I can avoid being given oxytocin, that would be a major plus. Not looking forward to the exam, which I'm sure will be necessary today. I'd really rather keep my lady parts between me and my husband, but what can you do? More of that to come, anyway.
Anyway, we decided we'd better pack the car as if this is it, because the hospital is 40 mins away, so if I somehow go into labour on the way there, we're not going to be able to turn around pick up our go bags. I'm going to bring my knitting, too, in case I do end up in the hospital. I'm positive for Group B Strep, which means the first thing they'll do when I do get admitted is give me antibiotics for 3-4 hours. It would be nice to get something done in that time and the blanket I've been working on is somewhere on my list of things to get done before the little one gets here.
Mr. Wolfman asked me to pack a bag for him for the hospital. Little does he know, I bought him a new one and packed it weeks ago. It's been hiding in the Little Monster's closet forever :) It's supposed to be a surprise, though (I'm 90% sure he doesn't know the address of this blog), so I'm thinking I'll walk it over to his work and sneak it into the trunk of the car before he gets done... and just hope he doesn't need anything out of the trunk before he gets home. I wanted to get him some comfy pajama pants for it, but there's nowhere around here to buy some. If I can sneak away for a few minutes after we've seen Dr. Ladyhouse, I might have more luck.
So, that's it. Or at least that's it for now. Tempting as it is to sit here and play around online (which is all I feel like I've been doing since work ended), I actually do have things that need to get done, not the least of which is taking a shower. I'm really wondering if my next post will include a baby or not. Only time will tell.
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
T- 1 Day
My due date, as determined by my first ultrasound, was yesterday. The one based on my period is tomorrow. Baby time is nigh.
My crazy hormonalness is tapering off a bit. I'm still a bit off, but a lot more in control. At the moment, I feel very calm, much like I did in the wee hours on the day of my wedding to Mr. Wolfman. I had a bit of anxiety left in me for when the ceremony was inexplicably delayed (that should really be unexplainedly, since there was an explanation, but no one wanted to give it to me), and I'm sure I'll have a few more hiccups before the end, but generally I have a feeling of serenity, like things are actually happening as they should.
Going to see Dr. Ladyhouse tomorrow, assuming nothing miraculous happens tonight. Thinking about a membrane sweep, but I haven't decided.
And now Mr. Wolfman is kicking me out of his spot, and so adieu. I'll write more tomorrow, possibly about what it's like to have an actual baby, but probably just about how my appointment went.
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