17 posts tagged “baby”

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.

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.

Yesterday, I was 20 weeks pregnant. I finally managed to get a few belly pics, even though by this time with Dora we probably had a memory card full of them. With no further delay:

                                                                            The Belly

In other news, today my sweet, sweet, princess pie is 18 months old. 18 months! Look at the last post to see her picture. Behind her impish smile, you might be able to imagine life with her. Peeking around corners to give a 1,000 watt smile, only to run off again so you will chase her. Falling down and trying to decide whether she should cry this time or not. Getting frustrated when you try to help her, because she can do it by herself. Getting FURIOUS when she can't do it by herself. Clapping when she does do it by herself, and looking around to make sure you are clapping too. We are, baby, we are.

So, only 11 more days until my sonogram. I mean, that's basically just 258.5 hours, not that I'm counting.

Good thing I have this to distract me, huh?

Porch smile

February 8 and 9 Sean and I went skiing. I didn't offer the boob when I got back, and Dora didn't ask, so there you go. Of course, she's been sick since then. I think we're pretty lucky that she wasn't on any antibiotics until she was 14 months old, but unfortunately she inherited the gene from the women in my family whose bodies decide that if anything funny is going on, like say antibiotics, or snot, or OH look that cloud is shaped funny, then it's time to be constipated. Poor girl. I have to say that I have never been so glad of seeing the last medicine in a bottle gone. It was WAY worse than the double ear infection.

Speaking of skiing (weren't we?), I am an old, old, decrepit woman. And out of shape. That is all.

In the realm of tmi, I offer the following: I had a period on January 21st (very heavy) and another on February 22 (very light). For those of you playing along at home, that is exactly one normal cycle. Or, well, you know, normal-ish. Odd. Very odd. So I guess we are entering into the realm of BabyWatch 2.0 (henceforth known as BW2.0). You'd probably be well-advised to tune out now. Things could get stupid.

The Dora update is that besides being sick and constipated for most of February, she is delightful. Picking up new words and new games at a rate faster than I can count. She pretended she was nursing this morning. She pretends to 'drink' out of toys that kinda resemble cups. She tries to fool us into believing she has 'kat-sis' (glasses). Also? The cuteness is kryptonite. Resistance is futile. Maybe I will get off my ass and post a picture to prove it, but don't hold your breath.

When you think the most stressful part of your day is going to be Christmas shopping, and you end up being wrong, you know you have had a no good very bad day. December 21, 2007, was Dora's 1 year checkup. Even knowing she was going to have to get 5 shots and a finger stick, I still thought finishing up the Christmas shopping was going to be the worst part of the day. I was wrong. The pediatrician heard a heart murmur. She didn't want me to worry, because everything seemed to be fine, but she wanted me to go RIGHT NOW to the hospital to get 2 chest x-rays and an EKG. Follow-up appointment with the heart specialist February 14th. The week following that checkup, we attended six Christmas's including the one at my house, and hosted a dinner party for thirteen. I think I can officially say I'm tired of 2007. Bring on 2008, and a cheery message at the heart doc's. (I really, truly don't think anything is wrong, but trying to convince my internal worrier to stop is pretty well futile.)

In all, I have to say 2007 has been one of the best years of my life. I've watched Dora grow from a lump on the couch to a walking talking little girl. People are right, you just can never understand what it's like to have a kid until you have one. Wearing your heart outside your body, indeed.

We've been slowly working towards weaning, with nursing only happening first thing in the morning and last thing at night. The nighttime feeding is mostly for her comfort, so it will probably be the next to go. She has even skipped it a time or two. The morning nursing, however, allows me to doze sometimes as much as 2 hours after Dora wakes up because I bring her to bed with us, so that's going to be a tough one to cut. Getting up at 5:30 continues to hold no appeal to me. Yea olde left boob never gets engorged anymore, even if it's more than 24 hours since she's used it, so I think it's probably not producing much milk at all. She never was the work horse of the deal anyway. Rather unmotivated I'd say, but still hanging in there for thirteen months, so we can't give her too much flak.

My cycle still hasn't returned, despite a rather abrupt dropping of all daytime nursing. I did feel rather PMS'y for several weeks earlier this month, so it's only a matter of time I think. I suppose then we'll have to start worrying about the next pregnancy, but all in all, it's been a fine twenty-two (22!) months of not bleeding (except for the post-partum business). Hopefully I can get back on my infertilty story soon and get it all caught up before we start Infertilty Version 2.0.

I hope you all had a very merry Christmas and are planning a fine new year.

It's true. She's taking steps. At first, a few weeks ago, only with lots of encouragement. This weekend, she let go of my knees twice and took a few steps. Running is mere moments away. Trips to Wal-Mart will never be the same again. She will be one next week. What happened to my little baby? 

Pebbles

And may I just say that it took all of my willpower to not give her any chocolate last night. Well, except that not giving it to her meant I got to eat it. So not THAT much willpower.