11 posts tagged “baby 2.0”

It's that time of year, and when you have two little ones, that time of year is even THAT-er, if you know what I mean. My baby boy had RSV a couple of weeks ago. Thankfully we caught it early and he was not hospitalized. We gave him breathing treatments at home and he got antibiotics for the double ear infection. Of course, the antibiotics means his thrush came back after we finally got it cured just a few weeks prior. Poor guy has had more dope in his first three months of life than his big sister did in her first year! He's such a sweetheart he's just been a smiley guy throughout all of it. He fought us some on the breathing treatments, and the albuterol made him twitch like he was coming off a 17 day crack bender, but overall he's just been a dream. However, he's 3 1/2 months old, which means the 4 month sleep regression is just around the corner. I'll just have to keep remembering "This too shall pass."

Anyone who has used Gentian Violet before for a baby's thrush can tell you that stuff has one horrible side-effect. It is purple. And it stains. Not only the things it touches, but the things the drool afterwards touches. The warning on the bottle says not to use it on ulcerated skin because it can cause tattooing. That kind of stain. So things have been interesting around here trying to give Isaac his GV, then keep him from drooling on anything for 15 minutes afterwards. Not to mention that anything that regularly goes in his mouth either has to be disinfected or treated with this same stuff, so you can just imagine what the inside of my nursing bras look like. Psychedelic. However! I have actually had luck getting the stain out of one of my white shirts, and here is where the advice comes in: While the drool is still wet, soak it in spray Oxy-Clean and let it sit for several days. Miracles may just happen in your laundry basket.

Miss Dora is thriving too. She is officially potty trained during the day, which was mostly made possible by the 10 days she stayed at home while the babysitter wouldn't take Isaac because of the RSV. For those days she was home with mama, daddy, and grandad (my dad), we put her in panties every day, and there were only 2 accidents. At this point, she doesn't even have to be reminded, she comes to tell you "Mama, kink-que!" (In case you don't speak toddlerese, that means "Mama tinkle!") Her vocabulary never ceases to amaze me, and every sentence is a glimpse into what she is thinking. What a riot!

There's something you should know about me. I hate IV's. I mean, I really hate them. They feel more invasive to me than a pap. Thankfully, things went fast enough with Isaac I never had to have one, I just had the hep-lock. Craptacularly invasive, but at least not invasive with a beeping ball and fluid filled chain. So naturally, as soon as I nursed Isaac and was pronounced free and clear of any rips, tears, or other stitch-requiring words you don't want to hear about your nether regions, I asked for the nurse to remove the hep-lock. She told me the rule was that it can't come out until I have proven that I can go to the bathroom. I'd peed not two hours before and had a very sweaty delivery since then without much time to drink anything, so I was probably a bit dehydrated, but I told her I'd muster up a few drops if it would get me off those nasty soaked sheets and get the damned hep-lock out of my arm. She said "Oh, yeah, most people are still numb and can't feel the sheets! I forgot you can feel everything!" So we waddled (or rather I waddled and she strolled) to the bathroom for my few drops of blood out of the proverbial turnip, then promptly returned to a REAL bed to have my hep-lock removed. Isaac was in the nursery getting his bath and medical stuff done, and I took just a moment to relive the amazing hour leading up to his birth. Thank goodness my doctor did the AROM. Thank goodness he had no meconium. I miss Dora. I'm ready to go home now.

Unfortunately, due to hospital rules I was stuck there about 36 more hours, but my mom brought Dora up the next morning and we spent the whole day together in my hospital room getting to know Isaac. I never thought a person could have too many friends, but we had so many people stop by to see us that day I was begining to question that sentiment.

Now we're living life with a squooshy baby and a 2 year old, and let me tell you, we don't get bored. I went back to work full time when Isaac was about 6 weeks old, and even though I wish I could cut back to part-time and stay with my kids more, there is just no way for that to happen right now. And so I have two miracles, a great babysitter, and a great appreciation for my time with them. That's not too shabby.

Warning: Long. Read at the risk of your eyeballs exploding.

All events take place on November 10, 2008

12:44 AM  I am dead asleep.

12:45 AM  I am awakened with a contraction. It is, obviously, hard enough to wake me out of a dead sleep, but not terrible. I am positive that it is a real contraction, much like the first real contraction with Dora. I wish I could sleep some more, two hours of sleep is not enough to labor on. Especially if this goes for 30 more hours, like it did with Dora.

1:00 AM  15 minutes, huh. That is not what kind of sleep I had in mind. It quickly becomes apparent that it is the kind of sleep I am going to get, though. The contractions don’t get any closer together, but they do get stronger. At 3:30 AM I get up and wake my husband up. We eat a snack, watch the weather channel, and vacillate about calling my mom to stay with Dora. Finally we decide to call her to put her on notice (she has an hours drive), and my husband decides to call a friend to help him move some grain trucks out of the field, since the opportune watching of the weather channel shows him there is some unexpected rain moving in. The grain is not covered and will rot if it gets very wet. The grain trucks do not have windshield wipers. Our friend loves us. I call my mom back and let her know she should go ahead and come up because I am going to be home alone for a while and could use the support. She is already on the way. She and I watch the weather channel, doze, and time contractions. They are staying 15 minutes apart.

6:30 AM I go to bed to try to rest. The contractions stop. I go to sleep for an hour, and another contraction wakes me up at 7:30. Things are very irregular, and I am furious. Is this not the real thing? Did I really just wake everybody and their dog up only to have my contractions stop at daylight?!?

8:30 AM My mom and I decide to take a walk to see if things will pick up. It just so happens that a volunteer organization I’m involved in is doing a senior citizens dinner that day of turkey and dressing, so we walk down there to help prepare. Contractions level back out to every 15 minutes and are getting to the point I have to stop and really breathe through them. All the ladies at the dinner tell me to go home, and we finally walk back home about 11:30. My husband comes home, ostensibly for lunch, but ends up taking a nap instead. I call my doctor and they tell me to go ahead and come in for monitoring ASAP. I am unconvinced. I let my husband sleep an hour. I rock my baby Dora to sleep for her nap, knowing that she will look much larger to me the next time I see her. I cry a little bit and hold her for longer than is strictly necessary.

2:00 PM We finally leave the house. The hospital is an hour away, and my husband stops for Long John Silver’s on the way. YUCK. Contractions are still 15 minutes apart, but I cannot bear to sit through them, so I lift myself up by pushing on the armrests of the car the whole way up there.

3:30 PM We stroll into L&D, tell them who we are, and they say they have been expecting us. My doctor called around noon and they were wondering what was taking so long. We are told to sit in the waiting room and they will get us into the exam room to see how things are progressing as soon as it is available. I turn around and take 3 steps to the nearest chair, then squat and breathe through the next contraction. As I’m coming out of that place you go when you are dealing with a contraction I hear “Ma’am, MA’AM! Are you ok?!” “Yes, I’m fine, I’m just having contractions.” “Well just come with me to a room. This one is closest.” I was amused that they were dismissing me until they saw me have a contraction. Did they think I was lying about having contractions? I guess a lot of people come in thinking they are in labor when they are not. You’d think they would trust someone on a second baby a little more, but whatever.

4:00 PM  I am checked. Four centimeters. I am disappointed, but not surprised. This is probably the first time I am questioned on my birth plan. “You are planning to try to do this without meds?” Yes. “Did you do it without meds the first time?” Yes. “Oh, ok then.” It is not the last time I hear that exact line of questioning. A sweet little nurse comes in to set my hep-lock (no IV until absolutely needed per my birth plan) and can’t get it into the vein, even though you could drive semi-trucks through my veins. She says she won’t try more than once, which I appreciate, and goes to find someone more experienced. The nurse who comes in next worked in a lab for 20 years before becoming a nurse and hits it on the first try, but says I have ‘muscular veins’, and so even if the needle is against them, it doesn’t go through the wall of the vein, it just slides down it unless you poke really hard. Ah, that explains the pain of the first time. I get hooked up to a monitor and we get to listen to the heartbeat and watch the contractions. Over the next couple of hours, the contractions slowly get closer together, but never closer than about 5 minutes apart. The sweet little nurse is very encouraging, telling me I’m doing a great job and am in control through the contractions. I like her a lot.

7 PM Shift change, which brings with it a middle-aged larger nurse lady who, on the first time looking at my monitoring strip sees some decelerations and there is a moment of controlled panic until a gentle tilt to my right side brings the heart rate back up to where it should be. It now looks fine, she says, but not as exceedingly wonderful as it did before. I stay religiously on my right side, and monitoring is now continuous, rather than intermittent. Contractions are 4-ish minutes apart and really taking everything I’ve got to get through them. She says I’m breathing really fast through them, and if I get to feeling light-headed I should concentrate on slowing my breathing down. She asks if I went un-medicated the first time, and when I say yes, she says she is glad because un-medicated deliveries always go the best. It’s at this point that I vaguely realize (after several nurses have asked about me doing it before) that nobody really believes you are going to go through L&D un-medicated unless you have done it before. I actually got support on that this time, rather than a nurse asking me if I want meds every time they walk in the door like last time. Wouldn’t you think they would be trying to encourage the newbie, the person who is trying and doesn’t have the first-hand knowledge yet? Nope. This is a guilty until proven innocent situation, I guess.

8 PM My doctor stops by, checks me, and I have progressed to 6 centimeters. Ugh. Slow. Like last time. He looks at the nurse and says “And she’s not going to let us break her water, she doesn’t want any interventions.” I almost interrupt him to say, “Actually, if you really think it would help, I wouldn’t be opposed to it. It just didn’t help last time.” He assures me that he thinks it will help this time, and that little task is performed posthaste. Like last time, it didn’t hurt at all. In fact it feels a little relieving because some of the pressure is taken off the skin of my stomach. Unlike last time I hear the blessed word “Clear” from my doctor when he sees the fluid. Thank God. No meconium. The nurse says the contractions will probably get more ‘intense’ now. I tell her I need to go to the bathroom, and she helps me get there holding a wad of sheets between my legs to absorb the fluid. The contraction I have in the bathroom is, indeed, more ‘intense’. I tell the nurse she wasn’t joking. We get me back to the bed and I wake my husband up. Oh, did I not tell you that immediately when we get to the room he requests a cot to sleep? Yeah, he said one thing to me about being tired and having to take a nap and I just looked at him. He shut up and dozed for a few hours, but now it was time for him to step in. He basically just kept his hand on my leg as a calming presence for the next few contractions. I am deep in that place where labor happens and mostly just want his presence, not anything concrete. After a few contractions, I tell the nurse that things feel different. She asks “Different how?” I am not sure, just different. A few more contractions and I tell her I’m feeling like I’d kinda like to push, but it’s not bad yet. I remember from last time that when it’s time to push, there will be no ‘kinda’ about it. She checks me and I have progressed to an 8. She tells me there is still a ways to go, and after the next contraction I tell her I’m really feeling like pushing. She says I need to hold off, but she’ll check me during the next contraction to see. That hurt, but it was worth it, because she says “Oh, you stretched to a 9 during that one contraction, he probably progressed a half inch just now!” She pushes the nurse call button and tells the station to call my doctor and tell him that his patient without the epidural is a 9 and feeling very pushy. He is there within the next contraction or two and walks in during the middle of one. He tells me that I sound ready and I can get started with the next contraction while he gets ready. He puts his gown on and is looking for gloves when the next one hits. I bear down and it feels as marvelously relieving as I remember it. He turns around and says “NO! Stop! Somebody tie me!” My doctor never raises his voice or gets excited, so I think the shock of it actually got me to stop pushing. He has me move closer to the end of the bed and when I hold my breath and tuck my chin to push through the next contraction he instructs me not to push so hard; to breathe through it. I feel something familiar after a few second and ask “Is that his head?” Yes. I can’t see him yet, but know it is only moments. One more gentle push while breathing and he is out.

9:08 PM “Hi baby. Hi sugar. Hi Isaac.”

Nothing going on here but gestating. Doc's appointment today, and we'll see what he says.

Below is a picture of me yesterday, at 40 weeks and 2 days. The hugeness is...overwhelming. And uncomfortable.

40w2dcropped

Today. And no signs of imminent labor.

That's about all I have to say about that.

Lemme just get something right out front here: I don't like beer. I don't like the way it tastes, I don't like the way it smells, I just don't like it. If it's really cold out of a tap and the only thing to drink, I can tolerate it, but I don't like it. That being said, I have wanted beer this whole pregnancy. It sounds REALLY good. And at the risk of public censure, I'll admit to having had a teeny little drink of it a time or two during this pregnancy, and damn, it tasted GOOD. I keep telling my husband that as soon as I have this baby, he's going to have to bring me some Bud Lite with Lime. Besides wanting it for 9 months, it's good for nursing!

Which leads me to my second story: After Dora was born, my milk came in. In a BIG way, if you get what I'm saying. "Torpedo boobs" is the best descriptor I've heard used. It was painful. And it wasn't coming out.  After three different people suggested that I drink a beer to help me "let down", I finally did it. I didn't like it, but I did it. I figured it would be like an enema, not comfortable, but worth the end relief. I was right. Within half an hour I was drowning Dora, and that's how it stayed. I keep looking forward to this scenario the second time around, because I am going to be looking forward to drinking a beer! I'm excited! I'm also about 99% sure that as soon as this baby is born I'm going to lose my taste for beer.

According to some people, that means I'm in the 3rd trimester. Have I mentioned that I have 2 footie sleepers I found on clearance at Sam's for this little baby boy? And that's all? I mean, I have all the big stuff from when Dora was a baby, but I have no idea where I'm going to put all the piles of baby shit that you need when you have a baby, because we are out of room in our house. It would be nice if I could convince my MIL and/or FIL to come clean the 30 years of accumulated shit they have stored in all our storage spaces out, but I really don't see that happening. So, yeah. 3 months left, and apparently we're doing this baby minimalist style!

We went camping last weekend, and the altitude kicked my ass more than I ever thought possible. Keep that in mind if you decide you want to go to the mountains when you are six months pregnant. It kept me pretty handily contained to the campsite, which, well, that's where all the s'more's fixin's were, so I really can't complain. Dora fell off the steps of my MIL's camper and scraped the crap out of her nose, but she was outside all day for several days in a row, so she was in HEAVEN. Her reaction was basically "There's MORE DIRT over here that I can smear all over me?!?! And then some more over HERE?!?! AWESOME!"

In other things you might want to reconsider heavily if you are thinking of doing while pregnant, let's talk about salmonella during your 21st week of pregnancy. Actually, let's don't talk about that at all, except to say this: DON'T DO IT.

Little baby boy has finally turned head down, I'm pretty sure. I mean, judging by all the wiggling and karate kicks going on in the general vicinity of my stomach/diaphragm/liver I'm pretty sure of it. Glucose tolerance test next Wednesday, so wish me non-puking thoughts that day, if you have a spare moment.

In closing, can I get a great big HALLELUJAH for us having the house to ourselves for more than a few days running for the first time in about 6 weeks? That starts today. My second/third trimester libido thanks you.

I thought I'd post it anyway, even though you can only really see the words that SAY 'boy parts', and not the actual said boy parts. Oh well, I probably shouldn't be posting pictures of my kid's privates anyway.

25 weeks. Getting pretty round. Hoping to go camping next weekend in the mountains. Keeping my head firmly buried in the sand regarding where, exactly, we are going to fit this new addition into our house.

Carry on.

Tomorrow I have a checkup at the coochie doctor. I'll be 17 weeks and a few days along, so I'm really excited because we should finally be scheduling our FIRST and ONLY SONOGRAM OF THIS WHOLE FREAKING PREGNANCY! With Dora, I had 2 sonograms recorded on VHS by 11 weeks. I am supremely glad I got to start feeling this baby move at 14 weeks and have been feeling it daily since 16 weeks because reassurance is something that has been sorely lacking this time around. Most of the time I love that my doc is a minimal interventions type guy, but the sono's are sure something I miss not having. Of course, that means that I didn't have to go to the RE, so YAY!

And because I don't want this baby to feel like it's a left out second baby, a letter:

Dear Baby,

I love you. Your daddy and I are SO excited to meet you, but stay put a while because you need to cook some more, okay? OH, and keep kicking, it makes me smile every time.

Love,
Mama

(OK, so still kinda second babyish...)