Grape Did It

I don't know guys, I have a feeling you'll be hearing the word "breast" a lot on here for awhile

This morning we took Truett for his two day check-up, knowing we might get some bad news. Ever heard of Bilirubin? Well it's a son of a bitch level of something or other that measures for jaundice in babies. We were actually allowed to discharge from the hospital Wednesday night instead of Thursday morning and it might've had to do with the begging and pleading I did with the doctor or perhaps to do with getting rid of the hippie-natural-childbirth freak who has been taking up room 3 for 4 days already. I'm not sure but we left a little ahead of schedule on one condition. That we get our ickle little baby to the doctor by Friday morning since his bili-fuckyou-rubin levels were a touch on the high side. Seeing this coming - as he had been poked and prodded more than I cared for - I had already made the appointment for today with maybe just a tiny touch of panic in my voice.

Bud held Truett as the nurse poked his TINY LITTLE FOOT this morning - the same foot that has been poked I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY TIMES ALREADY - and I sat in the little plastic chair with my fingers in my ears and my eyes squeezed firmly shut. Truett wailed and I have this hazy memory of reaching out for him before the nurse could actually put a band aid on his foot, all, haand me my baaby, snif! I neeed to nurse him. I actually think I sounded like that. 

So yep, yeah, his jaundice has not in fact improved, something the smiley doctor did not seem too concerned about but to be safe we are bringing him back in tomorrow and he thinks there is a 50/50 chance he will need light therapy. Seriously. A nurse will come to the house and put him under a light bulb. In the meantime we should unwrap him and put him in the sun for a few minutes a day and I am meant to nurse him as much as possible - duh because that's pretty much all he wants to do anyway. We also have to supplement his feedings with a little bit of formula because that helps get all of his systems, um, moving. I was skeptical of the added formula, wearing my natural-child-rearing-self-righteous a little high and tight, asking the doctor if this could possibly interfere with breast feeding? He assured me, so long as I began all feedings at the breast, it shouldn't matter. Then he told me to quit reading so many books and get over myself already. Okay, not really, but he thought it. He also wore a bow tie, true story.

Which leaves me with the fact that I have just finished nursing and turned  Truett over to Bud who promptly stripped him down, took off his own shirt (no idea why) and traipsed out to the backyard, bottle in hand. 

Going, going, gone

I just...

...need to...

...yawn.

Introducing

Robert Truett Sypert

7lbs 4 ounces

21 inches

Born at 4:20 AM July 28th

We plan to call him Truett. Labor was very hard. Delivery was awesome. Having him is indescribable. Because we labored for two days, we have to stay in the hospital until tomorrow morning. I am already working on nursing and typing at the same time. I will give the whole labor and delivery story as soon as Bud and I have recovered from the fact that we ACTUALLY HAVE A BABY HOLY GOD. 

On a less spoiled-cranky-baby note

On the way back from our short trip, Bud and I stopped at Ikea and purchased our new highchair. I realize this is only interesting to those who have a baby(s) or are about to have a baby, but sharing parenting product information is like sugar-laced crack amongst the mothers out there so I am SHARING THE LOVE. Or crack pipe or whatever drug reference makes sense. 

We (or I, who am I kidding) originally registered for a very pretty, wooden, EDDIE BAUER edition high chair. But like so many things I have mulled over obsessively, I decided it just was not what I wanted. I do not want a high chair that eats my kitchen and this one from Ikea is so little and portable and sweet. It does not have a tray and if our baby is particularly...chunky, when he or she begins the solid-foods portion of her life then I may reconsider. It is small. But it folds! And pulls up to the table so that I can feel like I'm eating WITH my child, not hollering across the kitchen, "THREE MORE BITES AND YOU CAN GET DOWN," Also, this way we can introduce red wine and cheese to him earlier. The finer things in life. 

At least I should be able to make my next sweat-inducing bikini wax

Splendid. This is how the doctor's appointment went. Weight SAME. Dilation SAME. Baby head down still and has not dropped particularly much more SAME. Maaaybe you are slightly more dilated. Maybe? Maybe you could just LIE and make something up. I swear I would not know the difference.

I'm not terribly disappointed, I always felt like this baby would take its sweet time because it is a first and because I am not someone who thinks pregnancy is fairy dust and chocolate covered eclairs. That's just how it goes, right? If I totally dug pregnancy I'd probably deliver at 37 weeks on the dot or something. 

The thing is, I didn't think I was going to have a baby early until I began listening to all of the people around me who were all, wow, baby has DEFINITELY dropped. And, no way are you going until the end. And, oh I predict the end of next week. Which derailed all of my carefully laid plans to trick myself into thinking I was going to have AT BEST a 40 week baby, much more probably a 41+ week baby. I LISTENED TO YOU PEOPLE. And the women at the coffee shop.

Point is Cider is still firmly lodged in my uterus, sorry for the gag-factor on that phrase, and does not look like she is eager to get out anytime soon. OR HE. In fact, when I told the doctor that the baby shoves a foot or something up under my ribs and it kind of really hurts he laughed and said, yeah, it's trying to get a toe hold and not come out! Splendid. 

I tried, I really did

My goal for today was to write about something non-pregnancy related. Which might have been okay except the baby has hooked his foot under my ribcage and left it there for the last hour or so. You think, this being her favorite move, I would have become used to it by now but no, no oddly you do not become accustomed to a small foot under your ribs. Still really hurts. And maybe this is insensitive but I reach down there and try to shove it back out from under which doesn't help at all. The baby is all, step off bitch, it's getting crowded in here. 

But no, wait! I have a life outside of being pregnant. I do. Now if I could only remember it. I have now been sober for over 9 months? Does that count as a life, or the exact opposite? Actually, a few nights ago I had a glass of wine and then the next day...get ready, a cup of coffee in the morning and iced tea the SAME AFTERNOON. If we humans gestated for, say, 2 years, I'm sure I'd be enjoying a little heroine every once in a while too. You know, in moderation. But I figure the baby is a robust 6-7 pounds now, time to step up to the plate and begin handling life the way the rest of us do. With coffee and alcohol.

Actually, I do have something. Tomorrow Bud and I are traveling to Georgia where he will do business and I will visit a friend and probably just sit on her couch and yell at the dogs the same way I do everyday in Alabama but still, IT'S SOMETHING. I am also still trying to tick movies off of my list so Bruno or Harry Potter are on the Maybe To Do list. The Maybe stands for If I Do Not Go Into Labor While I'm 3 Hours from My Hospital. But I figure if I DON'T go, there's no way I'll go into labor early. Thinking, always thinking. 

(Side note: guy across from me at coffee shop is reading Ovid. I am glaring at him, trying to relay my irritation at his intellectual superiority. But, naturally, his superiority does not allow him to look over and catch my glare. Damn you, intellectual reader who makes me feel stupid.)

37 weeks and looks like baby is taking a smoke break on the way down

Today I went to the dentist and got a mild lecture on the importance of continuing to brush and floss before and after baby birth. My dentist said he didn't know if it was because of hormone levels being out of whack or if the distraction of a baby causes women to brush less (UM I'm thinking the second one), but pregnant and post-partum women tend to develop more cavities than everyone else. I don't know, sleep or floss? SLEEP OR FLOSS? 

I also know my dentist isn't married because he commented that, huh, you don't look that far along and wow! Your ankles are still so slim! So many women develop thick ankles. It was the comment of a green man, someone who has not yet been silenced by a stony glare each time he dared to open his mouth about ANYTHING PREGNANCY. Obviously these comments were meant to be flattering but as a rule? The mens out there might as well just stick to a bland, you look great! when it comes to pregnant women. MUCH SAFER. My God, I have three weeks, I could develop cankles tomorrow!

I know I'm getting close to delivery not because of the physical signs, but because even taking these pictures tired me out and before I stood in the mirror I kept thinking crap! Today is picture day. As if standing in front of a mirror for ten minutes snapping photos now equals running several miles. I have pretty much lost all perspective on what it means to feel or look normal and I am acutely reminded of this when I have to do things like GET OFF THE COUCH. I found myself muttering last night in the bed, it's like a Goddamn act of Congress, this rolling over business. 

Saturday morning I woke up very early with very slight cramping and then couldn't go back to sleep for the excitement that HEEEEY! MAYBE I AM ABOUT TO HAVE A BABY. But no, they soon went away and now I am planning on only getting excited over nothing short of Titantic cramps because everything I've read thus far says pre-labor can be lots and LOTS of false starts and I THINK(s).

37 weeks. For anyone pregnant or planning on getting pregnant I would highly recommend a skirt like this. It's actually just a large non-maternity skirt from Old Navy that is made of that stretchy, cottony fabric and it doesn't matter if you are a size 4, 14 or 9 months pregnant, you can fit. Very nice.

One of the people who works at Panera commented today that she does not think I'll go three more weeks and that the baby has dropped since she last saw me. I have no idea how someone can tell those sorts of things but I'll take it.

I know how this picture makes you feel. SO SEXY.

 

The great manipulator

Several months ago Ella developed this charming habit of answering, "Oh." to everything she was told. Ella! The sky is raining sparkles! Oh. Ella, look! Your little brother is learning to walk! Oh. It was almost like we were watching her turn too cool for us BEFORE HER THIRD BIRTHDAY. Nothing impresses her too much but she will saunter into the living room with one of her new, miniature goblets and announce that she is, "drinking her wine." 

Of course I get no end of amusement from her nonchalance and have on several occasions pointed out how funny her tendency to remark, Oh. TO JUST ABOUT ANYTHING, is to anyone who will listen. 

That, plus that child can pretty much do no wrong in my book, and you've got a classic situation of Lame Adult Pointing Out Every Damn Thing A Kid Does. I'll relay some of these stories to Bud when he gets home. Just yesterday I was telling him how Ella said she wished she could go to the doctor with me and then I was all, ISN'T THAT JUST THE CUTEST? And he looked at me, um, how do I avoid a fight and yet STAY TRUE TO MYSELF? All feelings of superiority about when our child comes along have gone out the window. I probably WILL only talk about baby. I probably WILL pull out pictures of Cider making stupid faces at the camera and be all, CAN YOU BELIEVE THE CUTE? I'm sorry, ahead of time. I think I will snap out of it eventually when he or she is...oh I don't know? 20? When does that generally wear off?

Anyway. I was on the phone with Summer this morning when Ella chirped in the background that she needed to speak to me. Summer handed her the phone and here's our conversation:

"Hey!"

"Hey Ella! What are you and mama up to?"

"Good."

"You guys are good?"

"Uh huh." Pause. "Oh."

Pause.

"Ella, are you being silly?"

Sound of FAKE LAUGHTER. 

I just thought he might've bought me a drink first

Today marked my 36/37 week appointment at the doctor and hoo boy, does it tend to get...invasive at this point. The nurse asked me to go into the room, "remove my pants" and then cover up with a sheet and she'd be in to prep me. Um, MY UNDERWEAR TOO? And I have no idea why I always feel compelled to ask this question when, if they need your pants off, chances are they need your underwear off as well. It's just, how horrifying, the doctor comes in to look at your upper leg or something and is all GOOD LORD WOMAN I AM MARRIED. Yes, she nodded, underwear too.

Which reminds me, COMPLETELY off topic, of the time when I was say, 6 or 7 and asked my mother about sex. She described it to me in her typical gentle but straight-forward way and I nodded and said, Ok, but I'd prefer not to remove my underwear when it happened. She nearly giggled and said, Uh, it's going to help if you remove your underwear. WOW MOM.

Now, for those of you totally offended by BLOGS that SHARE TOO MUCH etc, etc, go on and stop reading right here. Then again, if you are totally offended by THIS GENERATION'S INABILITY TO KEEP ITS MOUTH SHUT, I'm not sure why you're reading in the first place.

For those of you who enjoy an over-sharer? The doctor gave me my strep B test which I won't get into but was not nearly as disgusting as I thought it was going to be (sidenote: the nurse told me today would be my strep test and I answered with, that's disgusting! She looked startled so I tried to cover up by laughing like, haha, just kidding, I love a q-tip up there as much as the next person!) Well, there you go. I guess I did go on and get into it. After that the doctor checked my cervix and GUESS WHAT? I am 1 centimeter dilated. Now, before you begin making plans to visit with a casserole (something cheesy please) I have to disclaim that being 1 centimeter dilated means...not much. I could hang out in this phase for quite some time and, odds are with a first baby, will hang out for quite some time. Still! MY BODY ACTUALLY KNOWS WHAT IT'S DOING. The baby has also begun to drop. 

When I told the doctor the cervix check didn't hurt like I'd been told it would (thank you fellow over-sharers) he said yeah, some women have higher cervix(es?) than others and in that case it sort of feels to them like I'm reaching up to touch their tonsils. Him and me? We get along just fiiine. 

On packing a bag

Some time ago a friend of mine who recently had a baby advised me to pack my bag early because you never know! She had her little one three weeks early and though I'm pretty sure I won't be so lucky (that would be this weekend), I went ahead and began gathering a few things to take to the hospital. 

First I added a giant bag of pretzels and an equally big bag of Peanut M&M's. Then I threw in some less important stuff like slippers, a robe, a couple of newborn outfits, some newborn diapers and a few other things the magazine told me I might want. I keep going back and forth on bringing our iPod and this is for two reasons. 

For starters, the computer where we stored most of our downloaded music up and died a few months ago and we are too cheap to buy more songs. Instead we mostly go to grooveshark.com and tote the computer around the house. So, that means I will be listening to some strange compilation of songs we put together before we even knew we were having a baby and who knows what THAT crazy couple might have chosen.

Secondly, I cannot imagine being pulled into the throes of good music when all of a sudden a contraction comes ripping through and from here on out when I listen to Faith Hill's Wild One, I feel a strange stabbing in my abdomen. I get that some people listen to soothing classical music or maybe the wild drumbeat of a bongo drum beaten on by a pothead, but for me, listening to music does nothing to drown out pain. If it did, I would have been blaring a radio during my last bikini wax. MOVE MY WHAT? OH, SORRY, COULD NOT HEAR YOU ABOVE THE SOOTHING MUSIC.

I will also bring a book my mother recently lent me. Something from the 1970's with a title that refers to a "pain-free birth". And although I do not believe labor has to be some horrible, screaming and gnashing of the teeth affair, nor do I think this DUDE had any idea what he was talking about what with NOT HAVING A UTERUS and all so I plan to use that book to bean anyone in the head who tells me I cannot have my snacks.

Also, sadly, the Peanut M&M's did not make it and so I had to buy another bag today. 

*When I went tearing wildly into them last night, Bud told me he thought I probably "should have something with protein in it instead." PEANUTS HAVE PROTEIN.