The Newborn Daze

Several of my friends and facebook friends have brought new babies home in the past few months, and I am so happy and excited for them, as well as sympathetic.
I can vaguely recall the days when I too had a newborn. I didn't blog at that time. I think I was in too much of a sleep-deprived fog to put any coherent sentences together. It's the sleep deprivation that makes that time so hard, as well as hazy in my memory. Those first few months at home with your new baby fly by in a blur, although when it's happening, each minute crawls by like an injured snail. At least, that's how it was for me.
I remember wishing for each day to pass, for my baby to get a little bigger, a little stronger, to get on a sleeping and eating schedule... and for sleep. Please just let me sleep, baby!! I can't go on another minute without sleep!

fresh out the womb and ready to party

Valerie wasn't the easiest baby, although don't get me wrong, she wasn't the most difficult either. She didn't have full blown colic or any serious health issues, so I really should not complain, but I will.

#babyproblems

She cried a lot, spit up a lot, utterly failed to breastfeed and did not crack a smile until she was 12 weeks old.  Those first 12 weeks were a slog.

her first smile!!!!

The thing I dreaded most about becoming a parent before I became one was diapers. Cleaning up baby poop!?! Gross! But I quickly learned that diapers are nothing. Oh my god, so easy. Bring on the diapers. What I should have known was that feeding a new baby is the real horror. They have to eat ALL THE TIME!!! Are they eating enough? How do you tell when they're full, or hungry? Is it normal to spit up this much? Oh the agony of spending 20 minutes pumping and cleaning parts only to watch your baby spit it all right back up.

Breastfeeding was the absolute worst. My baby never latched, and my milk supply was insufficient. I got to enjoy 6 months of pumping milk which was nowhere near enough to exclusively feed with, so I also got to enjoy buying lots of formula - but not just any formula - special formula to reduce spit up because this child would keep down maybe 60% of her intake. So. Much. Mess. Those first few months were a constant deluge of bodily fluids. Mainly breast milk and spit-up, with the occasional hint of pee and poop just to mix it up. We had to always keep rags handy to clean up the imminent mess.


Pumping is the pits. I felt isolated, stressed out trying to rush through every pumping session before she would start crying again, and for what? Maybe two ounces of milk that would soon be converted to spit-up I'd be wiping off my couch. In hindsight I definitely should not have kept pumping as long as I did. So much wasted time and energy. So many bottles and parts to clean.

I longed for the day she would eat solid food. I longed for so many things. When would she hold her head up? Smile? Laugh? Roll over? Sit up by herself? Crawl? Pull up to standing? Walk? Talk? Just become a person already, you useless bundle of needs! At least smile at me! Can't you see I'm doing it all for you... just a little appreciation would be nice!

throw me a frickin' bone here!

But, babies are not known for appreciating all their moms go through. Not only are you completely preoccupied with meeting your baby's needs, you have your own physical recovery to manage, all while not sleeping. You're still carrying around some extra pregnancy pounds. The good news is, pregnancy is so miserable that the postpartum situation feels like a revelation. I felt so much better after giving birth than I did pregnant that I walked around in a cloud of happiness, delighted to not be pregnant anymore. I can lay on my back! I can get comfortable! No more shooting pains in my hips and legs! I have ankles again! I can walk! If my baby would just get it together, I could sleep, too!

I have to give it to moms who give birth by Caesarian section. That recovery is SO much worse and I honestly don't know how they feed and care for their babies while healing from being split open. Just give them all capes because they are super women.

I was lucky enough to have an easy breezy physical recovery which allowed me to focus all my complaining energy on breastfeeding, sleep deprivation and the overall stress of caring for a newborn. It's hard times. You hear a lot of people saying how much they love their babies, and they do. I loved my baby, even then, I really did. But the real truth is nobody likes the newborn stage. Does anyone? Really? Some people say they do.  They love to cuddle those tiny, innocent little bundles. Sure, I love to cuddle my friends' sweet new bundles. I liked cuddling my own bundle, but I mostly just remember wanting to put her down so I could take a nap.

I'm sure it is a totally different experience when breastfeeding goes smoothly, and you have a happy baby who digests all his milk. Someone has written that blog, I'm sure. This is not that blog.

But one day, you wake up, and your child is maybe 15-18 months old. She's sleeping through the night, walking (the early walking is my absolute favorite!! Those wobbly little baby legs... ), saying a few words, eating solid foods and never spitting up. She gives you hugs and kisses and makes you laugh with her emerging personality. Newborn hell is a distant, fuzzy memory. You can barely even remember the nightmare of pumping, bottle washing, spit up laundry, extreme fatigue, and unexplained crying. You have MADE IT!!!

Don't get too excited, it's not all rainbows and unicorns. She still needs you to do most everything for her. You dress and undress her, change her diapers, make and clean up her meals, bathe her and groom her. But when she's crying, she can tell you why. She can tell you when she's hungry or full. And most importantly, she can tell you she loves you.

how time flies

So, to my friends with new babies, this is me saying I love you, and I feel you. Unless you're one of those weirdos with an easy baby and you love every minute of these newborn days, then I don't feel you, but I'm happy for you. Either way, squeeze that little baby tight, for tomorrow she will be all grown up!

The days are long, but the years are short.

My birth story

Here the blog takes a more personal turn from the recipes and creative topics that came before today. I've been wanting to record my birth story ever since I've had a birth story to share and now going on 14 months since I gave birth, I'm finally getting around to it.

I came to love hearing other women's birth experiences when I was pregnant.  They are all unique and so personal. And giving birth is so intense it's hard to convey what it's really like to others.  I'm sure there is a lot I've forgotten in the 14 months that have passed but I will try to remember as well as I can. Get comfy because this story pretty much goes on forever.

In the first trimester of pregnancy, in the throes of 24/7 nausea, giving birth was not remotely on my radar. It was in the second trimester, when my belly started to grow big and round, that it started to dawn on me that this baby was going to eventually need to escape and I better give that some consideration. I took my usual approach and reserved a selection of books from the library to read on the topic. Some of the books I read were:

1. HypnoBirthing:The Mongan Method: A natural approach to a safe, easier, more comfortable birthing
2. Gentle Birth, Gentle Mothering: A Doctor's Guide to Natural Childbirth and Gentle Early Parenting Choices
3. Your Best Birth: Know All Your Options, Discover the Natural Choices, and Take Back the Birth Experience
4. Natural Hospital Birth: The Best of Both Worlds

You have probably by now picked up on my crunchiness and desire to have a natural birth.
If you want to read about saving the placenta in a velvet bag until it falls off naturally and breastfeeding until the child is 7, check out the second book - WHEW that one promotes some seriously alternative, some might say "fringe," parenting choices. No judging here. (!)

I heard so many birth stories during my pregnancy that started with a desire for natural birth and ended in C-section and I was feeling very discouraged, but researching birth helped me to feel like I understood what was going to happen and while I wouldn't ultimately be able to control the outcome, I could at least be informed about my choices. Some of what I read was empowering and I even looked forward to giving birth, although let's be honest, mostly because giving birth meant I would no longer be pregnant, glory hallelujah.

As the weeks ticked by, I hoped I would go into labor naturally. I started having contractions (very minor ones) a couple weeks before my due date, December 24th, which was very encouraging. I even enjoyed the contractions when they came- they mostly just felt like a warm sensation in my back. They started coming at regular intervals a few days after my due date, and I was so excited, I sat at my desk at work and wrote down the times of each one, about 7-9 minutes apart. They went away and returned a few times over the next few days and they got stronger. I felt buoyant at the signs I would really go into labor on my own. And by buoyant, I mean I was so miserable, huge, exhausted, uncomfortable and desperate to get.this.baby.out of me that just the hint that the end was near was all I could grasp at to get me through.

My last day at work was Friday December 28th, 4 days past my due date, and I knew it would be the last. I was having strong contractions all day and knew there was no way I would be returning on January 2nd, the next workday. I could tell my body was finally getting ready. It was nearly go time. I barely managed to waddle out to my car in the snow with all my stuff at the end of the day, ready for my 12 weeks off.

The next day I was at a friend's house catching up with some girlfriends when my water broke around 3 pm. "Well you guys I'm pretty sure my water just broke.  ...Yep. It definitely did.  I guess I better head home soon."

I planned to wait at home as long as possible before going into the hospital where the timer would start (t minus 24 hours until they would take the baby) so we settled in for an evening at home managing contractions, which quickly got stronger and stronger with the water broken. They went from a warm sensation to a feeling of pressure in my back to an incredibly intense pressure unlike anything else I have felt. Labor pain isn't pain like being cut or wounded, but rather, for me at least, it was a really strong pressure.  The only word that really describes it for me is intense. The pressure builds to such an intensity that it's hardly bearable.

I sat on a beach towel on the couch (anything less was inadequate for the "water" which continued to break) watching TV and wondering if I would make it without an epidural. I have absolutely no idea what was on TV. It was getting seriously intense and I seriously doubted my resolve to go natural. Finally we called the doctor to let him know I was in labor and we should probably come in. I packed my bag and around 11 pm we went out to the car.

It wasn't a fun car ride, trying to breathe through contractions and hanging on tightly to the car, hitting what felt like epic potholes and bumps, but we only live about 10 minutes from the hospital and at 11 pm traffic was light. 

It was late Saturday night, two nights before New Year's Eve, and the labor and delivery floor was a ghost town. I felt like I had the place to myself. The very kind nurses who checked me in and gave me a hospital gown coached me to breathe through my contractions and were very supportive of my wish to have a natural birth. I was so reassured by their presence. At check-in they found I was 5 centimeters dilated and the doctor said he expected we'd have a baby on our hands early in the morning, in 5 or 6 hours. Music to my ears.

We settled into our room and attempted to rest, if not sleep, through the night. I nodded off briefly between contractions and tried my hardest to relax and breathe through them. Finally, finally morning came, and I had made it to 8-9 cm. 10 centimeters is the magic number when it's time to push the baby out. So close. Just wait to feel the urge to push, the doctor said. Ok. I'm ready.  It was around 8 am. Come on urge to push, let's do this!!!!! But I did not feel an urge to push.

I snacked on some nuts and granola and drank pregnancy tea. Being able to eat and drink is a lovely perk of natural birth, although I wasn't terribly hungry. And we tried everything I had read about to get labor going. We walked and walked around the halls. I stopped and leaned on the wall when a contraction came and Rich pushed on my lower back to counteract the pressure.

We had a lavender scented neck warmer that could be heated up in a microwave which I used on my back - counterpressure and heat were the only things that I found really helped.

I tried sitting on the exercise ball.

I paced around the room....and as the hours ticked by I started to panic. This was not good. Lunchtime was coming and we should have a baby by now. Why don't I have the urge to push? The nurses gave us the afternoon to keep trying to get things going but the 4 pm deadline loomed and I didn't have a good feeling about this.

Sure enough 4 and 5 pm came and went and the urge to push never did.  I cried. I had made it so far on the "natural" plan - no pitocin, no epidural - but I knew I would have to get hooked up to the IV and get pitocin to increase my contractions and try to reach 10 cm. The doctor said we have no choice at this point. I had been stalled at 9 cm for about 8 hours.

I had read enough labor books to know that a labor with pitocin is exponentially harder to endure than natural contractions.  I had been able to breathe through and manage mine.

But at 5 pm the pitocin drip started and within the hour I was out of my mind, unable to bear the unrelenting contractions. I couldn't breathe through them or sit still or fathom another minute. I whispered to Rich, "epidural."

They called the epidural guy, and luckily since the floor was so quiet he came quickly. This man was pure speed and professionalism. At 6, he set up his tools lightning fast and went to work. The nurse held my arms in her arms, pulling me forward to try and anchor me still so he could make his incision. I wasn't capable of holding myself still through the pain. I was hardly aware of him working behind me; I was too overwhelmed with contractions.

But then the amazing, amazing medicine worked its magic and the contractions stopped.  At least as far as I could tell. They continued just the same, but I could no longer feel them and I nearly passed out with relief. I rested for the next 2 hours in blissful epidural calm while the pitocin did its work.

And around 8 pm, the doctor returned and declared I was ready to push. He swung a huge mirror down from the ceiling so I could see... what I would be doing. I had heard about this mirror and thought I would decline using it. But the doctor didn't ask first, he just busted it out, and there I was, in stadium-style lighting. It was horrifying, but I have to admit it was helpful to see what I was working toward, so I'd use it again.

I didn't have enough feeling internally to do any real "pushing" with the epidural still in effect, but it was quickly wearing off. I was starting to feel contractions again, which at this point was helpful (and they were MUCH reduced from before). I crunched up and pushed from the top, pushing down on the top of my belly with my hands, and trying to squeeze the baby out from the top. This actually worked shockingly well.

After 10 minutes and several rounds of focused pushing during contractions, there she was. First her head, then her shoulders. My baby girl. The doctor hooked his fingers under her armpits and pulled her out, with her squishy face and all her black hair. I have never felt such a tremendous physical relief as the moment she was born. It was hard to believe she was only 7 pounds because I felt a hundred pounds lighter as all the pressure released from my pelvis.

The epidural was mostly worn off and I had sensation back by then. The moments after she was born were a blur. I saw the placenta make its exit and asked the nurses to please aim the mirror somewhere else, I was all set with that view.

They gave her to me to hold and I was so overwhelmed with emotions and relief and physical feelings and crying and happy. I'm your mama! You are my baby! I'm somebody's mama now, and my baby is here, breathing her first breaths, alive for the first moments.  I couldn't even comprehend all that at the time, I was just trying to catch my breath. I was physically and emotionally exhausted from the 30 hours of labor since my water broke, long long ago, yesterday afternoon.  But so happy. We did it. She's here!

One of my favorite moments was seeing Rich holding her for the first time and falling in love with her. He glowed and it was so beautiful. He'd seen her on the ultrasound before but this was real, for the first time, he was really a dad now and holding his baby girl in his arms. I loved them both so much and I was proud of myself for bringing her into the world.

Every mom should be proud of her journey, whatever it holds. At home or in a hospital, labor induced or begun on its own, with or without medical interventions, chosen or not chosen. We all have our own paths to motherhood and each is unique and beautiful in its own way. My journey didn't go exactly the way I hoped but sometimes the failures make it even more beautiful.

I don't know if anyone will get anything useful from my story but I think all women should feel free to share their birth experiences. I can't even imagine being a mom without leaning on my own mom, my friends and other moms for advice and support, and I hope they know they can lean on me too.  We're all in this together and learning from each other. 

And I think that's all I have for now. Thanks for reading and have a beautiful day!