Look what we got in the mail from a thoughtful aunt and uncle :) I read a heavily edited version to True yesterday.
T likes Aunt Georgia's iPad far better than mama's little trusty notebook. How quickly they make you feel lame.
And cake pops! For Valentine's Day!
Happy Valentine's Day, ya'll.
She's been in these awkward bathroom photo shoots many times, she just doesn't know it. Mazel tov, little one, on being on the other side!
Junie's jaundice is getting better - we went to the doctor this AM. So gone is the billi-bed (thank God). Her weight is 7 lbs 8 ounces which is a relief because my little lamb sleeps all day long. I know, I know, I shouldn't brag lest I be up all night tonight, but I actually asked the doctor today if something might be wrong. All she does is sleep. I have to wake her up because my boobs hurt. (I didn't say boobs. He looked old so I was trying to be delicate.) He said so long as she's gaining weight, she can sleep 23.5 hours a day and get what she needs from one feeding. Has anyone noticed that baby-advice is, like, SO different depending on what doctor you talk to?
Thursday afternoon - 37 wks 5 days - I went - sorry, excuse me, LUMBERED - into the backyard to play with Truett. I figured what the hell, who knows the next time I'll be able to sit on the ground and dig in the dirt with my sweet little first born. So that's what we did. We dug in the cool sand and built houses. Sometimes three bedrooms but usually four and usually Truett destroyed them before I could EVEN GET MY POOL BUILT.
You know how people say they felt a "pop" when their water broke? Well, I can't really say it was a pop, but after my conscious caught up with sub-conscious I was all, wait a minute. And then it went into fast forward as I stood up and ran/walked inside to the bathroom calling over my shoulder that I'd be back in a minute mamahastogotothebathroom. And as I walked briskly that small pop-ish feeling became an honest to goodness gush and I started repeating this, "No no no no no no no no no no notagain notagain notagain," because here's what. Yes, sure, most women around 38 weeks are like, yeah I'm over this pregnancy thing. If I'm factoring in for depression and sickness, I'm over my pregnancies like immediately but I'm not supposed to admit that. Anyway - a slightly early but healthy labor and delivery are sort of most women's dreams. HOWEVER. Do you guys remember True's birth story? I mean, I do. First my water broke and I was all Yay! Baby is on way! And then four days later.
So this was not how I intended this birth to go. This birth I would labor at home as much as possible and then simply go into to the hospital and push baby out.
I called Bud. Then Summer. Then Kathleen.
Kathleen - a friend since 7th grade - happens to live about an hour away so she was on-call as the person to show up first and help out with Truett. Then Summer would be on her way and theoretically, Kathleen could be at the hospital for the birth while Summer took care of Truett. One of my main anxieties (and I had plenty) with this birth was how Truett would react to a night or two away from us. This was a first for him (and me) so it was incredibly important that he be at home with someone with whom he felt comfortable. In hindsight I had nothing to worry about since he had a blast with his cousins and even crawled into bed with Summer one night, rolled over and called her mama. Nice.
As it turned out Summer and Kathleen were both able to get here by late Friday morning and I still wasn't in active labor. I'd been having contractions at night for days and days, and those had increased Thursday night but I still wasn't able to kick my body into full-on labor.
I'm going to pause for a little warning here. What I'm about to tell you is not exactly pretty if you know nothing about how women traditionally induce labor. Because I wanted very much not to go to the hospital before active labor, I began using the Old School Induction Methods. This is what it looked like.
Hour 1: A small "chocolate" milk shake composed of chocolate ice cream and 2 ounces of castor oil. Believe it or not, it wasn't THAT bad. I mean, sure, who wants to drink ice cream mixed with vegetable oil but it was about as bad as it sounds. Odd, slippery, but hell, I drank worse in college on a good night.
Hour 2: PREPARE YOURSELF. An enema made with coffee. There, I said it and you'll never look me in the eyes again.
Hour 3: Shake. (For breakfast! For lunch! Then a sensible birth for dinner.)
Hour 4: The...enema.
Repeat for three or so cycles - I can't really remember. Obviously there is only so much castor oil you should be pounding in any given day.
By Friday late-afternoon I was feeling actual and painful contractions but they still weren't HOLY COW GET ME TO THE HOSPITAL. I finally climbed into bed around dinner time because - despite all natural childbirth advice to the contrary - I seem to labor well in bed. Go figure! There also seem to be few chapters on What To Do When Your Water Breaks and You DON'T Begin to Labor.
By 8 ish I began to panic. My body shook and the contractions took a turn for the much, much more intense. I still wasn't convinced I was ready to go to the hospital - in hindsight the mere fact of Truett's elongated hospital labor probably kept me at home far past what I might've otherwise been inclined to do and I'm not even going to edit that terrible sentence - but I asked Kathleen to come into the bedroom and talk it over with me. She agreed that it was probably time to go.
As Bud and Kathleen raced around the house grabbing things for the hospital I held onto Summer's shoulders and cried. She kept telling me no matter what it was all going to be fine and her wise older sister words helped considerably. I vaguely remember putting my forehead on her shoulder or face or something for a few minutes and then hobbled to the car.
Last minute someone grabbed me a big mixing bowl because I kept saying I might throw up.
Do you have a bucket list? I have a love/hate relationship with this concept but if you don't, feel free not to add Going to the Hospital In Full Labor to the list. While I love the idea of not being hospitalized for very long, I also would like to kick the shit out of every pot hole on the way to our hospital. Bud put his hand out for me to squeeze and just like in a movie, when he took it away to turn the wheel I gasped, BUD YOUR HAND.
When we got to the emergency room (my midwife said this was the fastest way to check-in) I held onto the counter and hung my head while Bud told them, um, yeah, duh my wife is in labor. I wish I'd been able to see the looks on everyone else's face in that full waiting room but I was so on another planet all I could do was try to breathe.
They whisked me away in a wheelchair to an intake room. As the nurse helped me change she explained that I'd be checked, then re-checked an hour later (dilation) in order to see if I was truly in labor. This could not have been more of a joke and here's where I'll take a break to tell you how I was feeling at this point.
When I was in labor with Truett I was able to meditate - in my case I used a rowboat. I was in the rowboat and paddled faster and faster up a huge wave as each contraction crested and then down the wave as each contraction ebbed. It sounds all kinds of kooky but the truth is that image helped me through so much pain I have never doubted a mind/body connection since.
With Junie's labor THERE WAS NO TIME FOR MEDITATING. I used to secretly cringe at woman who verbalized a lot during labor - especially the ones who kind of moo-ed (you know what I mean?) - but true to my always on point karma, I verbalized like hell during this labor. It was less a moo though and more of an out-loud, open-mouthed hum. Kathleen would remind me to lower my tone and I'd try, but mostly it was sort of an elongated Ahhhh, Ahhhh, AHHHHH as contractions crested.
These contractions, when compared to the ones I felt during Truett's birth, were off the charts. I just kept looking at Bud and then Kathleen trying to explain to them just HOW MUCH MORE PAINFUL these were than Truett's birth and they just kept nodding and telling me I was doing it. A few times I felt like shouting YOU DON'T GET IT I CANNOT DO THIS and in fact, maybe I did.
Back to the intake room for a second. The nurse checked me and told me I was 4 cm dilated. I. was. crushed. This amount of pain and 4 cm? That was when I began telling everyone who would listen that no, I truly couldn't do this without help. It's one thing to be in that kind of pain when you're 9 cm, but a whole other ball game when you're 4 and looking down a long, looong road (I kept referencing T's birth experience).
Once the intake nurse realized my "bag had been ruptured" for over 24 hours she went ahead and admitted me and they wheeled me to a delivery room quite promptly. In hindsight it is a good thing this hospital has that policy because I would have otherwise delivered in an intake room.
In the actual delivery room the contractions just kept coming, harder, longer, and more intense. I don't know how many times I informed everyone that SERIOUSLY I CANNOT, but it was a lot. They just kept telling me that yes you can and then one of the nurses asked, "did you have your other baby naturally?" When I answered yes she was sort of glib and said, "Oh, then you'll do the same for this one I'm sure." Oh my GOD IS THERE MASKING TAPE OVER MY MOUTH? This one is so much fucking harder. Is what I wanted to say. Instead I was all, Ahhh, Ahhh, AHHHHHHHH. I thought I'd levitated off the bed.
About forty five minutes into this scene I yelled that I was pretty sure something was going on down there and the nurse checked me.
Holy shit. Everyone. I was 9 cm. (It takes 10 to push baby out).
No wonder. I mean really no wonder. Like gasoline on a fire, dilating from 4 to 9 cm in 45 minutes is intense. I could actually feel my Juniebug moving through my body.
In what felt like seconds, but was probably about five minutes, I began crab walking to the end of the bed and hollering that she was coming, somebody better come get this baby she was coming holy hell.
I found out later that my midwife just happened to be walking by to check my charts - with no intentions of delivery yet - when she heard me yelling about baby coming. She ran in, strapped on her gloves and shoved that blue plastic thingy under me.
So wait. Remember how I said something stupid awhile back about how pushing isn't the part that hurts? At least it's not the HARDEST part? Oh ha. Ha ha again. When will I ever learn to keep my opinionated mouth shut? In that moment when June began pressing herself into my pelvis to get out I just said that's it ya'll. I can't do this. You might have been able to smile at me before but watch me now as I get off this bed and go home. I. CANNOT. I CANNNNOOOT. My midwife had to actually pull my feet into the stirrups.
June came out in...2 minutes? 3 seconds? I don't know, it was fast. So, so fast. When I was checked at 4 cm it was around 9 pm. She came out at 10:02 pm.
Intense.
I'm not sure how to end this novella except to say that my birth experience with June was as different as June now seems to Truett. She is so laid back. I am so laid back. Gone are the heart palpitations and cold sweats I experienced right after T was born. I can hear her cry and want to go to her, badly, but I no longer believe the world is ending. It's like she broke this spell of anxiety just by showing up.
It might not last. She's only been here a few days and is still sleeping off her rough end of the bargain (she was pretty banged up because she came out so fast). But I look at her and my new little family of four and feel so, so complete.
*I almost forgot! Photo credits to my dear friend Kathleen.
I've been counting Friday - her birthday - as day 1 so my numbers were off. Yesterday should have been day 5, today day 6 and so forth.
Today I managed my first solo trip to Target with both kids and it went well. Still kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop though because I remember how sleepy Truett was those first few days. Then the newborn wakes up and is like HELLO WORLD. And parents are like OH RIGHT. THIS.
When we got home Sunday Summer had stocked the fridge with good food to eat - both snacky and homemade casseroles and dinners. If you have a baby, you want Summer to be your sister is all I'm saying. She'd placed flowers around the house too and put a pack of those small, super cute glass bottles of Coke in the fridge. It created such a sweet coming-home mood that lingers even though some of those post-baby irritability hormones have also kicked in. Like when the dogs ate Truett's biscuit this morning and my head nearly spun off my neck.
But yeah. This little pretty sits on our kitchen window-sill right now.
We're battling jaundice again and though it irritates the hell out of the naturalist in me, we went ahead and got the billi-bed our doctor suggested. So when Junie B is in a deep sleep we snuggle her in her Boppy and place her over the strange blue glow for an hour or two. Here is True helping her with a treatment. And good news, her levels are slightly lower today than yesterday - so yay!
