I've always considered myself a strong person. I've been proud of how much I have tolerated and still managed to come out on top. (Well, not necessarily on top - but I've been able to keep my head relatively above water and make the most of any situation.) Part of the reason I never wanted to be a mother before I conceived Tori was that I knew I'd be responsible for another little human being and I was sure that would push me past my limit.
When Josh and I conceived Tori, I was petrified. Instantly. Life as I knew it was over. It was time to shed my old skin and re-emerge as someone completely different - as a mom. Sure, I had almost 10 months to prepare, but 10 months is nothing after you've been concerned with sustaining only yourself for 27 years before that.
I read everything I had time to read about motherhood. I took a childbirth class. I took three breastfeeding classes. Did I feel more prepared? Nope. I felt more terrified. I had days when I wondered, "How will I do this?" Some days I thought, "What was I thinking?" On others I simply felt amazed at what was going on within my body. Pregnancy is truly a miraculous experience. Over time I became more and more nervous about labor and delivery.
When the morning of August 2nd came and my water broke, I busied myself with laundry while Josh got his last couple hours of sleep as a non-parent. I spoke nervously to my tummy. "Do I get to meet you today, little one?" I asked as I stood in front of the washing machine and rubbed my bump tentatively. Tori didn't answer me but my heart fluttered. As it turns out, I didn't get to meet her that day but I did the next - August 3rd at 12:07 a.m., after 17 hours and 37 minutes of easy labor. Then life truly changed.
Suddenly I was no longer April - daughter, sister, college graduate, employee, wife. Suddenly I became a circus act - a juggler. I became all the things listed above, plus mom.
Now instead of going to work, paying bills, coming home, spending time with the husband, and going to bed - I'm getting up, taking care of Tori, being "moo-mie" (making milk), going to work, paying bills, making doctors' appointments, being moo-mie again, running errands, paying bills, coming home from work, and then again being moo-mie, taking care of Tori, orchestrating baths and showers, grabbing a quick bite to eat, and then settling to bed with my favorite snuggle-bug.
I sure am busy . . . but life is wonderful.
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Showing posts with label Birth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Birth. Show all posts
4.09.2010
8.06.2009
A brief birthday story . . .
Since I have no idea how much I'll be able to be on or how much I'll be able to write . . .
Sunday at 6:30 a.m. my water broke. J and I headed to the hospital at roughly 4 p.m. By the time we got settled in, the contractions had gotten quite noticeable. By about 6 p.m. I'd gone into what we'll call true labor. I did really well with the breathing exercises I was taught.
At about 9 p.m. the real pain started . . . I had gotten to 6 centimeters when I was sure that I was going to end up hanging from the ceiling from my fingernails. The nurse gave me a low dose of Statol to take the edge off the contractions, so I suppose I didn't have give birth 100% naturally, but folks let me tell you . . . ALL it did was take the edge off, just barely.
J was the most excellent childbirth coach a girl could ask for. He knew exactly when to help me with my breathing, just when to back off, and he knew just when to whisper into my ear "You're doing SO well Baby, we're almost there. We're really close. You've almost done it!"
At 12:07 a.m. T came into this world. There were no complications; we just had to use a bit of caution because the cord was over her neck, but Doc unwrapped it as soon as she was born, no problemo.
She was born 6 lbs. 6 oz. and 18.5 inches long. She's perfect. =) She looks almost like a carbon copy of her dad minus her furrowed brow which is the only recognizable facial feature of mine that she's got! Go figure! She's got my fingers and toes too, though. She's being an excellent baby, only fussy when she absolutely needs something. She's also taken incredibly well to being breast fed. I'm proud of her for learning so quickly. Of course, now my nipples may be the most sore things on the face of the planet but that's ok, too.
So here she is, folks . . . thank you for all of your well-wishes, prayers, thoughts, visits, and love!
Sunday at 6:30 a.m. my water broke. J and I headed to the hospital at roughly 4 p.m. By the time we got settled in, the contractions had gotten quite noticeable. By about 6 p.m. I'd gone into what we'll call true labor. I did really well with the breathing exercises I was taught.
At about 9 p.m. the real pain started . . . I had gotten to 6 centimeters when I was sure that I was going to end up hanging from the ceiling from my fingernails. The nurse gave me a low dose of Statol to take the edge off the contractions, so I suppose I didn't have give birth 100% naturally, but folks let me tell you . . . ALL it did was take the edge off, just barely.
J was the most excellent childbirth coach a girl could ask for. He knew exactly when to help me with my breathing, just when to back off, and he knew just when to whisper into my ear "You're doing SO well Baby, we're almost there. We're really close. You've almost done it!"
At 12:07 a.m. T came into this world. There were no complications; we just had to use a bit of caution because the cord was over her neck, but Doc unwrapped it as soon as she was born, no problemo.
She was born 6 lbs. 6 oz. and 18.5 inches long. She's perfect. =) She looks almost like a carbon copy of her dad minus her furrowed brow which is the only recognizable facial feature of mine that she's got! Go figure! She's got my fingers and toes too, though. She's being an excellent baby, only fussy when she absolutely needs something. She's also taken incredibly well to being breast fed. I'm proud of her for learning so quickly. Of course, now my nipples may be the most sore things on the face of the planet but that's ok, too.
So here she is, folks . . . thank you for all of your well-wishes, prayers, thoughts, visits, and love!
7.21.2009
OK, here's the scoop.
T is messing with her mom.
(Before I go too much farther, here's a warning to the males reading this that I'm going into female-medical-issues, but not in TOO much detail. But consider yourselves warned.)
Friday when I went to the doctor he pronounced me 90% effaced, 1 cm, dilated, and T low in my pelvis, head down, ready to go. I didn't think too much of that until early Sunday morning when I lost my mucus plug. All day Sunday J and I went from store to store and got final things taken care of, small things picked up, and packed our bags for the hospital.
Yesterday (Monday) morning I called the doctor's office just to confirm "So hey - since I lost the plug that means I'm looking at anything from a few hours to a week or so, right?" They wanted me to go to the hospital to Labor and Delivery to get monitored just to make sure. I get to L&D and they find that I am actually contracting and that I'm just over a cm dilated so they tell me I'm in early labor and that I should go home and rest up. By the time I left the hospital, I was feeling the contractions.
I make a big deal of it at work, come home yesterday, and wait. From about 11 am to 12 midnight I experienced contractions between 6 and 10 minutes apart, consistently, but never regular. They never got to 5 minutes apart to get me to go back to the hospital. So, a very tired person, I went to bed. I woke again at 6 this morning and the contractions weren't as often as they had been. I called the doctor's office again expecting to go in and see if I'd at least progressed since yesterday before noon. Instead of bringing me in to check me real quick and give me peace of mind, she set an appointment for me for Friday and said if my water hadn't broken and that if the contractions weren't unbearable I could return to work.
So now . . . with only a couple contractions an hour . . . I have no idea if I made any real progress, if it was just Braxton Hicks (practice contractions, but I wouldn't imagine so with them going on for 24 freaking hours), if it's pre-labor, or what. Thankfully my friend C is a midwife and she's been able to inform me that it's pre-labor, not just false labor, so I feel a little less embarrassed . . . but NOW I've brought my mom up here, a 500 mile trip for her, and uprooted her from her life, I've missed a day and a half of work I can't afford, I'm tired, I'm still contracting (though not much) so I'm not comfortable, and I'm just very . . . very . . . very frustrated.
No, I'm not overly anxious for her to get here after all this, I'm just frustrated because of the uncertainty and because I honestly feel like I've been robbed of that "oh boy we've gotta rush to the hospital" moment. And . . . and . . . and . . . argh.
(Before I go too much farther, here's a warning to the males reading this that I'm going into female-medical-issues, but not in TOO much detail. But consider yourselves warned.)
Friday when I went to the doctor he pronounced me 90% effaced, 1 cm, dilated, and T low in my pelvis, head down, ready to go. I didn't think too much of that until early Sunday morning when I lost my mucus plug. All day Sunday J and I went from store to store and got final things taken care of, small things picked up, and packed our bags for the hospital.
Yesterday (Monday) morning I called the doctor's office just to confirm "So hey - since I lost the plug that means I'm looking at anything from a few hours to a week or so, right?" They wanted me to go to the hospital to Labor and Delivery to get monitored just to make sure. I get to L&D and they find that I am actually contracting and that I'm just over a cm dilated so they tell me I'm in early labor and that I should go home and rest up. By the time I left the hospital, I was feeling the contractions.
I make a big deal of it at work, come home yesterday, and wait. From about 11 am to 12 midnight I experienced contractions between 6 and 10 minutes apart, consistently, but never regular. They never got to 5 minutes apart to get me to go back to the hospital. So, a very tired person, I went to bed. I woke again at 6 this morning and the contractions weren't as often as they had been. I called the doctor's office again expecting to go in and see if I'd at least progressed since yesterday before noon. Instead of bringing me in to check me real quick and give me peace of mind, she set an appointment for me for Friday and said if my water hadn't broken and that if the contractions weren't unbearable I could return to work.
So now . . . with only a couple contractions an hour . . . I have no idea if I made any real progress, if it was just Braxton Hicks (practice contractions, but I wouldn't imagine so with them going on for 24 freaking hours), if it's pre-labor, or what. Thankfully my friend C is a midwife and she's been able to inform me that it's pre-labor, not just false labor, so I feel a little less embarrassed . . . but NOW I've brought my mom up here, a 500 mile trip for her, and uprooted her from her life, I've missed a day and a half of work I can't afford, I'm tired, I'm still contracting (though not much) so I'm not comfortable, and I'm just very . . . very . . . very frustrated.
No, I'm not overly anxious for her to get here after all this, I'm just frustrated because of the uncertainty and because I honestly feel like I've been robbed of that "oh boy we've gotta rush to the hospital" moment. And . . . and . . . and . . . argh.
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